to a large Weft-India eftate prefented himself, and was accepted. He had a fhewy equipage, was moft fashionably accoutered, followed by half a dozen fervants, and talked on all fubjects whether he underflood them or not. Mrs Bedworth imagined him a perfon of great confequence; he had never feen fuch an inftance of modern dashing, and thought it vaftly fine. Mifs Eliza, though in her heart he could not but acknowledge Mr Puffington was horribly ugly, yet she was dazzled by his fine carriage and his handfome bays, his account of the marvellous things he did in riding fo many miles a day, in dancing all night afterwards, and various other feats, which he spoke of at great length, while Mrs Bedworth liftened in great admiration; and her grand-daughter anticipated the very great fatisfaction the fhould have in being pof. ffled of an houfe in London, and a coach to go every night to fome place of public amusement. The clothes for her marriage occupied both her grand-mother and herself much more than the character of her future hufband; in fhort, the marriage was celebrated with a great deal of fplendour, and the bride fet out with her husband. Mrs Bedworth being from her age unable to go with her beloved Eliza, was obliged to be content with the accounts the received of her child's reception among her husband's friends, the praifes that were lavished on her beauty, and the prefents that were made to her, all which the detailed again to her acquaintance with great fatisfaction. Emma, far from regretting the good fortune of her fifter, was happy in feeing how well fatisfied her grandmother was, and applied all her attention to pleafe and oblige her; all her affiduities, however, were received very coldly. Mrs Bedworth had exhaufted all the little affection of her heart on Eliza; and though fhe was now out of the queftion, the attention and refpect which all her vifitors paid to Emma, feemed to her an injury done to her favourite. The village where the lived was a few miles diftant from London, and in it was one of thofe gardens where all kinds of foreft trees, fhrubs, fruit trees, and flowers, are raised for fale. It belonged to a very respectable man, whofe father and grandfather had lived in the fame place, and followed the fame bufinefs; and he had brought up his fon in it, a very well-educated and well-behaved young man. Emma was now very often alone; her grandmother was frequently feized with fits of peevishnets, and would let nobody be in the room with her but Ann. And as poor Emma during the hot evenings of fummer naturally defired to, walk out, and yet could not go by herself beyond the dufty street of the village, fhe afked leave of Mr Meadows to walk in his nursery ground, being extremely fond of flowers. This was readily granted and as the availed herself of the permission as often as he could, old Mr Meadows was mightily pleased with the notice the took of the plants, and he used fometimes to walk with her and tell her the names of them. His fon now and then joined them, and fometimes walked with Einma when his father was not there. He obferved that fhe feemed to have a very sweet difpofition, and to have a tafte for the beauty of natural and fimple objects, fuch as plants and fhrubs; but there was generally a degree of dejection about her, and he infenfibly became defirous of knowing what made her unhappy. At laft fhe told him, that unfortunately fhe was an orphan, that her grandmother did not love her, and that, on her death, fhe fhould be quite alone in the world, fince the never would be dependent on her fifter. Young Meadows, who had every day discovered more and more perfections in this young woman, determined to offer himself as her husband. His father, far from objecting to it, encouraged his defign; but he feared the pride of Mrs Bedworth. was fuch as would occafion her to refufe her confent to a person whom the would look upon as a tradesman. However, as he had a very comfortable fortune befides his business, he inade his propofals with Emma's approbation; and the old lady, after giving him to understand that Emma was the firft of her family who ever was the wife of a tradefman, confented, and gave her grand-daughter her wedding clothes, which was all the was to expect from her. Emma was, however, very happy. She loved young Meadows as well from gratitude, as because the really thought him a worthy and eftimable man. She had a pleasant apartment fituated in the midft of a garden, where there was always a fucceffion of the most beautiful fhrubs and flowers; and now the found the ule of the knowledge the had acquired from Ann, and had great pleasure in affifting: in the management of the houfe for her father-in-law, as well as in keeping his accounts accounts for him. She delighted to be employed; and while her husband was among his cuftomers or his workmen, the made it her study to render his home pleasant to him, and to receive him on his return with cheerfulnets. The father and young Meadows perfectly adored her, and redoubled his folicitude to become rich to provide for her children. She had two little boys, which the nurf ed herself; and who, running about in their father's beautiful garden, feemed to grow and flourish like the vegetable beauties around them. Every thing, in deed, profpered about Mr and Mrs Mea dows, and all their neighbours refpected them for their excellent conduct. Eliza, in the mean time, was in a very different fituation. Her hufband, a giddy thoughtless young man, had never poffeffed the fortune he pretended to have; and had plunged into all forts of diffipation, till, at length, having fquandered away in idle profufion more than he could afford, he went to the gaming table, where he fometimes won, but oftener loft. Eliza, who had married him only to enjoy all the indulgences of a large fortune, had not the leaft notion of, or the leaft wish to practile economy; the cared not what expence fhe went to for drefs; and never could determine to flay one day alone, but was always either out, or had company at home, for whom he made the most extravagant entertainments. As to her three children the cared nothing about them, but put them out in the cheapest manner to nurfe; in confequence of which, one died at leven months old, and her little girl was, by the careleffaefs of the mercenary woman that nurfed her, let fall while quite a baby, by which accident fhe was to much injured, that he grew quite crooked, and was afflicted with fuch dreadful pains, as made her life a burthen to her. Her mother, to whole neglect this unfortunate defect was owing, was fo far from feeling pity and remorte, that she could not endure to look on this poor unhappy victim of her cruelty; and when Mr Puffington's affairs became fo difarranged, that, to fave expence, the was glad to accept her grandmother's offer of taking one of her children, this ill-fated little girl was fent down thither. But Mrs Bedworth perceiving her misfortune, could not bear the fight of her; fo that if it had not been for Mrs Meadows, the poor child would have been as much neglected as ever, for Ann was married long before, and every thing was left to new fervants, who hated the additional trouble the poor child gave them. Mrs Meadows, however, kindly took compaffion on the unfortunate little Betfy, and had her almost always with her, taught her to read, and attended to her health, fo that the foon recovered from all the effects of former ill ufage and neglect but thofe that were incurable. Not quite five years fufficed for Mr Puffington to fee an end of all his fortune, except a fmall eftate in Jamaica, which he could not fell; and it was convenient for him to go thither to escape from his creditors here, and to endeavour to make it produce enough to keep his family. Eliza and her fon knew not what to do, for he had no money to keep an houfe of her own: at length fhe refolved, though very reluctantly, to go to her grandmother, who received her kindly at first, but having no real and well-founded regard for any one, foon began to make her feel the weight of dependence; and her own vanity being mortified by the failure of her favourite's profperity, he could not help giving vent to her peevishness and ill humour, by reproaching the unfortunate Eliza, who, not used to command her temper, answered her with fharpnefs and relentment, fo that they lived very miferably together When Emma married Mr Meadows, her fifter Eliza had affected to be mightily displeafed that a tradesman, a cabbage and carrot merchant, as the was pleafed to call him, fhould be fo nearly related to her. She difdained to take any notice of Emma after the had made fo unworthy an alliance, and amuted herself fometimes among her intimate friends, by defcribing her fifter mounted in a market cart, and felling her greens about the ftreets, for fuch was the light in which fhe chose to represent the business Mr* Meadows followed. Emma heard of all this, but, when it happened, it gave her no pain; and afterwards, when her fifter was so severely humbled, fhe was too generous not to try to forget it. Inftead of triumphing, as a mean fpirit and a bad heart would have incited fome perfons to do, at the fail of her haughty fifter, fhe went to her as foon as the knew of her arrival, and treated her with more fondnefs and attention than fhe did in her flourishing fortune. Mrs Puffington was cruelly mortified at firft, and was fullen and referved; nor would the accept of any fervices fervices from her fifter Emma, whom The had been fo much accuftomed to defpife. By degrees, however, the patience and generous perfeverance of Mrs Meadows conquered her pride and malignity; and Emma, who would have been too happy had it not been for the draw back of her fifter's infelicity, employed herself inceffantly in promoting in Eliza a tafte for better things than the frivolous amusements he had left. Her fon, unlike his little coufins, the children of Emma, was a poor, pale, peevish, and unhealthy boy, who had never been taught any thing; and because he knew not what to do with himself, fince he could no longer have a great many new playthings bought for him, and a black boy to wait upon him, over whom he might tyrannize, he was fretting and crying from morning till night, while his mother was fo harraffed by his importunity, that the fometimes wept too. Emma's boys, on the contrary, were ufed to be up at day-break, and go round the grounds with their father or grandfather, then having breakfafted, they went to a fchool for three hours to learn writing and arithmetic, and after dinner had the reft of their time, either to play, or to cultivate a piece of garden-ground, which their father had given to each of them, and taught them how to manage. The profit of the products of these spots of ground was entirely their own, and there was a friendly emulation between them who fhould produce the finest fhrubs and moft beautiful flowers. Thefe two boys were healthy and robuft, and gaiety and pleasure seemed always to follow them. At firft they knew not what to make of their little puny coufin, who often went from them crying to his mother, complaining that they would not be his horfes, or carry him in a king's coach; but by degrees they underftood the caufe of his being fo feeble both in body and mind, and pitied him; and, from pitying, they began to attempt inftructing him, till at last he learned to be a little more like them, got into better health, and promised to be of fome use to his mother, and not an helpless burthen, as before was but too probable. Emma took almoft entirely the management of both her fifter's children; and that fifter became every day more and more fenfible of the fallacy of those maxims and ideas which had mifled her in the beginning of her life. Her husband, who was as worthlefs as ever, died in the Weft Indies, but not till he had spent almost all his eftate. Mrs Bedworth did not live long after him. She left all the poffeffed to Eliza, who with that and the wreck of her husband's property, which Mr Meadows affifted her to collect, had a decent competency for herself and her children, and took a fmail house in the neighbourhood of her fifter, where the was always pleafed to have opportunities of faying how much happier Emma had been in the plain yet ufeful education fhe had received, than fhe herself in being the child of her grandmother's ill-placed vanity; while Emma rejoiced to fee the triumph of reafon over pride and prejudice, and felt her own happinefs augmented by the fhare fhe had in restoring content to her fifter. . No traveller came, he loiter'd long He fat him down befide the stream So fair a scene might well have charm'd He fat beneath a willow tree That caft a trembling fhade, The gentle river full in front A little ifland made. Where pleasantly the moon-beam shone Upon the poplar trees, He liften'd-and he heard the wind And murmur quietly. He liften'd for the traveller's tread, He started up and grafpt a stake, There came a lonely traveller Ed, Mag. May 1799. But Jafpar's threats and curfes fail'd A while he ftruggled, but he strove He lifted up the murdered man And plunged him in the flood, And in the running waters then He cleanfed his hands from blood. The waters closed around the corpse There was no human eye had feen And foon the ruffian had confum'd One eve befide the alehoufe fire." When in there came a labouring man He fat him down by Jafpar's fide A melancholy man, His toil a little earn'd, and he Then with his wife and little ones That very morn the Landlord's power And now the fufferer found himself He leant his head upon his hand, And fo by Jafpar's fide he fat Nay-why fo downcaft? Jafpar cried, Drink, neighbour, drink! 'twill warm thy heart, Come! come! take courage man! I have a wife, faid Jonathan, She has no bed to lie upon, I faw them take her bed. Our Landlord he goes home to night And he will fleep in peace. I would that I were in my grave In vain I pray'd him to forbear As he has been to me! When Jafpar faw the poor man's foul On all his ills intent, He plied him with the heartening cup And with him forth he went. This landlord on his homeward road 'Twere eafy now to meet. The road is lonefome-Jonathan, And vengeance, man! is sweet. He liften'd to the tempter's voice The thought it made him ftart. His head was hot, and wretchedness Had hardened now his heart. Along the lonely road they went And waited for their prey, They fat them down befide the ftream That croffed the lonely way. They fat them down beside the stream And never a word they said, They fat and liften'd filently To hear the traveller's tread. The night was calm, the night was dark, The night was calm, the air was ftill, 'Tis weary waiting here, he cried, And now the hour is late,Methinks he will not come to night, "Tis ufelefs more to wait. Have patience, man! the ruffian faid, Then Jonathan grew fick at heart, How now! cried Jafpar, why I thought Thy confcience was asleep. No more fuch qualms, the night is dark, The river here is deep. What matters that, faid Jonathan, Whose blood began to freeze, Nor eye below, nor eye above It hung upon the willow tree, It hung upon the flood, A madman who has made his home His cheek is pale, his eye is wild, And fearful are his dreams at night And never dares to pray. The fummer funs, the winter ftorms, For heavy is the weight of blood THE RUINED COTTAGE, |