The Reward of Virtue;
OR,
THE HISTORY
OF
Miss POLLY GRAHAM.
The Reward of Virtue;
OR,
THE HISTORY
OF
Miss POLLY GRAHAM.
Intermixed with several CURIOUS
and
TERESTING INCIDENTS in the LIVES of
several Persons of both Sexes, remark-
able for the singular adventures which
befell them.
To which is added
A BRIEF DESCRIPTION OF
BOUNTY HALL,
And its Inhabitants.
Printed for J. ROSON, No. 54,
Grand; C. Pyne, No. 20, Pater-Noster-Row;
and WILLIAM COOKE, at his Circulating Li-
brary in Queen-Street, May-Fair. 1769.
MEMOIRS
OF
Miss POLLY GRAHAM.
CHAP. I.
THIS young lady was born in the year 1732, in
Captain
Graham had been on a party of pleasure with some other commanders; and, having
eat too freely of some choice pine apples, had taken a surfeit. A raging fever
ensued, and the physicians, who attended him, soon pronounced his case
desperate. He languished about three weeks, and at length expired in the arms
of his loving wife; who was, by this stroke, so overwhelmed with grief, that
she fell into a swoon, from which she was with the greatest difficulty
recovered. When she came to herself, she wept most bitterly, called on his
name, and her most ardent wishes were that she might soon follow him to the
mansions of bliss, where she confidently hoped he was already arrived. Her
intense sorrow having rendered her utterly incapable of giving the necessary
directions for his funeral, a neighbouring gentleman, who paid a visit to the
disconsolate lady, on this melancholy occasion, took on himself the ordering of
the interment; and captain Graham was most magnificently buried in the abbey
Mrs. Graham cautiously concealed from Miss Polly the death of her father; and the letter, which the mistress of the boarding school received, only intimated a desire that Miss should be sent home to pass a few days with her parents. This was complied with, and the young lady immediately set out for London.
She was greatly surprised, on her arrival, to see the whole family in mourning, although she soon guessed, by the cloud of melancholy which appeared in every one’s countenance, the real cause of their grief; and was no sooner told that her suspicions were well grounded, than she was quite disconsolate at the loss of a parent, whom she so tenderly loved; yet her prudence, and filial piety, suggested every mean of consolation to induce her mother to resign herself entirely to the divine pleasure, though she has equally in want of comfort.
Six months had passed in this manner, when at length the grief, occasioned in the family by the death of Mr. Graham, began to diminish; and a young gentleman, son to Mr. Wilson, a rich merchant in the city, struck with the beauty of Miss Graham, waited on her mother, and desired leave to pay his addresses to her daughter. He was about five and twenty years of age, and endowed with every good quality to win the affections of a young lady. Miss Polly was as much taken with him as he was with her, and their tempers agreed so perfectly, that the happiness of both seemed to center in each other. Mrs. Graham, however, did not approve of his suit, out of a spirit of pride. Her exalted notions would not suffer her to marry her daughter to any man whose condition in life did not promise a future promotion to some dignity; and she flattered herself, she should, one time or other, see her daughter an admiral’s lady. She did not value riches, and would have been better pleased that her daughter should give her hand to a gentleman, though ever so poor, than to the richest merchant on the Exchange, whom she always esteemed as a tradesman.
She therefore resolved, that her daughter should either consent to marry a young gentleman, called captain Pierce, who had lately obtained the command of an India-man, or else forfeit all future claim to her favour. The young lady often reasoned with her mother on the impropriety of her marrying a man she could never love; told her how deeply Mr. Wilson was rooted in her affection; and at length vowed she would sooner die, than give her hand to a man, on whom she could not also bestow her heart. Mrs. Graham was quite inexorable to all her daughter’s intreaties, and the persuasions of her friends had no influence over her inflexible temper, whose predominant passion (as has already been observed) was ambition. She lost all patience at hearing Miss talk at this rate; and, in the first emotions of her rage, ordered her to quit her presence, and never to come into it again, unless she resolved to listen to the addresses of him who was appointed her husband. The young lady retired to her chamber, and remained some time insensible to any other passion than sorrow. A flood of tears relieved her big swoln heart, and she had just power enough to write the following letter to her lover:
Dear Mr. WILSON,
MY cruel mother has just now been soliciting me to give my consent to marry one, whose very name is more hateful to me than I can express. I said what I could to persuade her not to sacrifice a daughter’s happiness to her ambition; some friends, who were present, joined in the request; they expostulated with her on her conduct, but in vain; she was deaf to all they could say, and protests, that, if I do not obey her, she will for ever disown me for her child. My love for you overbalances every consideration; and her barbarous usage of me, in a point wherein she ought to shew most tenderness, forces me to be disobedient against my inclination. Her cruelty will, I believe, soon put a period to my life. Write to me, as often as possible, as that is the only comfort my heart is capable of receiving, while I am deprived of the pleasure of seeing you. To prevent any discovery, direct your letters to my woman. I have only time to assure you, that I am, and ever shall be,
Your most faithful and affectionate,
till death,
M.G.”
This letter, delivered by her trusty maid, produced next morning the following answer:
“My dear Charmer,
I Never till now knew what it was to receive a disagreeable
present from you. Yours of yesterday gives me infinite pain, and the more, as
it is out of my power to relieve your distress. Our cruel fates have raised a
new impediment to our happiness. My father, who, you know, highly approved of
our marriage, has this morning forbid me, under the severest penalty of his
displeasure, ever to think more of you. He is highly irritated that your mother
should entertain so mean an opinion of our family, and he threatens to
disinherit me, if I persist in the resolution of making you my wife. Believe
me, my dear Polly, the enjoyment of all the riches of this world cannot yield
me the least satisfaction, if I am deprived of you, on whom my happiness alone
depends. I could cheerfully submit to endure the greatest misery, if I were in
possession of her whom I love dearer than my life. But the thoughts of what
you, and the dear pledges of our mutual embraces must suffer, rend my heart. We
must wait a while with patience, till kind heaven shall please to point out a way
to extricate us from our present
difficulties. You shall hear from me every day, and as a token of my love, take
this ring, by which I plight my faith to you for ever.
I am,
dearest Polly,
yours entirely,
T.W.”
This epistle, together with the
ring, she received very joyfully. She was however concerned, that Mr. Wilson
should have laid such injunctions on his son, but at the same time, flattered
herself, that his good sense, and his great love for him, would make him change
his sentiments; and a circumstance soon after happened, which gave her some
room to hope; and the more, as it freed her from the disagreeable task of
shewing complaisance to a man, whom she abhored, by removing him from her
presence. This event, though it gave no small uneasiness to her mother,
afforded her much satisfaction, as it retarded her marriage with him whom she
could never be brought to love.
About this time, captain Pierce,
who, as may be remembered, was raised to the command of an East-India ship, was
ordered by the company to go to
The merchant’s son, finding the
greatest obstacle (as he flattered himself) to his happiness removed, renewed
his suit with greater ardour than before, but had the mortification to find
himself repulsed again by the young lady’s mother, who still persisted in her
resolution of not marrying her daughter to a tradesman, as she
haughtily expressed herself. This refusal filled him with the most poignant
grief, and on his return home, he fell ill of a violent fever; in the height of
which, he betrayed symptoms of madness, by which the physicians soon discovered
the cause of his illness. He called on his dear Polly incessantly; cursed his
cruel stars which denyed him the happiness of possessing her whom he loved to
distraction; and gave evident signs, that, unless his request was gratified,
death would soon put a period to his unhappy life.
To heighten our lovers distresses,
the inexorable Mrs. Graham, who had an estate at
Her sorrow was not a little
increased at hearing of the indisposition of her dear Mr. Wilson, which by the
following accident she was acquainted with. A gentleman who was intimate with
the old merchant’s family, and who also knew Mrs. Graham, happening to pass
that way, as he was going to his country house, which was a few miles distant
from Luton, stopped at that lady’s house, where he was invited to stay dinner.
Miss Polly was present at table; and, among other topics, the discourse turned
on the subject of love, and the fatal consequences of being disappointed in the
choice of a partner for life. This conversation was very disagreeable to Mrs.
Graham, though it afforded a melancholy satisfaction to the young lady, as it
in some measure soothed her grief. He took occasion to mention Mr. Wilson's
unhappy state, which had overwhelmed his aged father and all his relations with
sorrow; and concluded his narrative, with earnestly requesting, that Mrs.
Graham would restore tranquillity to his afflicted family, by giving her
daughter leave to marry the young gentleman, as his father now most ardently
desired it, how averse soever he might have heretofore been to the match, on
account of Miss Polly’s mother’s mistaken delicacy, in refusing her consent to
an alliance with the family of a merchant.
The reader may easily conceive what
were the emotions of Miss Polly’s heart at this discourse. She retired from
table, and went to her apartment, where shutting herself up, she gave vent to
her grief by a flood of tears. She remained in this deplorable situation
several days without seeing any body, except her maid, who carried her what she
wanted. Her mother, at the end of a fortnight, during which time she had not
once seen or enquired after her, went to her; and, in order to increase her
pain, began with reproaching her for her meanness of spirit in condescending to
listen to the addresses of a man, who was so much her inferior in every
respect; called her refusing to marry captain Pierce an act of the highest
disobedience; and vowed she would never forgive this obstinacy in persisting to
love any other than him who was already fixed on to be her husband.
The young lady, who, by a series of
the most cruel treatment from her mother, was grown quite weary of life, would
gladly have embraced death, and often sighed for the hour in which she should
be delivered from her present troubles. Her woman, who loved her tenderly, and
who sensibly felt for her mistress’s distress, resolved to try an expedient to
deliver her, which she did in the following manner:
She procured for miss Polly the
habit of a country girl, and took a place for her in the waggon which was to
set out for
The old lady immediately ordered her
to be conveyed home, where she was no sooner arrived, than she was closely
confined to her appartment; and for greater security, Mrs. Graham would not
suffer any servant for the future to attend her, but carried her what she
wanted with her own hand, and kept the key of her room herself. The unhappy
young lady’s case was now become more desperate than ever. She wept
continually; sleep became a stranger to her eyes; and, in a word, she abandoned
herself entirely to grief.
Her mother, who was under continual
apprehensions lest her daughter might be more successful in some future attempt,
took the resolution of placing her to board at a farm-house, where she could
not so easily put her design in in execution. She accordingly agreed with an
honest farmer, whose name was Jenkins, and who lived at Warrington in
Lancashire, to take her daughter, with an allowance of thirty pounds per annum
for her maintenance. She also gave him strict orders never to suffer her to
stir out alone; and, above all, carefully to conceal from her any letters which
she might receive from young Mr. Wilson, when he should come to hear where she
was. All things being thus adjusted, miss Polly was conveyed to Jenkins’s
house, attended only by two servants, who returned immediately to
Jenkins, though born and bred in the
country, and a stranger to the politeness which is to be met with in great
cities, was well acquainted with all the social virtues which serve to render a
man a valuable member of society. He could feel for the distresses of disappointed
lovers; and he no sooner heard the particulars of miss Polly’s story, than he
promised to lend her all the assistance in his power. He could not forbear
exclaiming loudly against the misconduct of parents, who, to flatter their own
ambitious views, entail perpetual misery on their offspring, and pave the way
to their inevitable ruin. Miss told him her intention of going to London; which
design, though it had been before frustrated, she hoped by his means would now
succeed.
The farmer had a distant relation in
London, whom he had not seen for many years, and had often told his family his
intention of going to town on that account. He prepared for his journey; and
Miss Graham, by his direction, quitted his house some hours before his
departure, and met her at a village five miles distant from Warrington. She
mounted behind him, and in this manner arrived in London. When she came
thither, she thanked the farmer for his kindness, and prayed him to accept of
five guineas as a reward for the important service he had rendered her, which
he with difficulty complied with; and she went directly to the house of Mr.
Wilson.
CHAP. II.
AS soon as she
entered the house, she was received by her lover with all the ecstacy and joy
imaginable. They for some time lost the faculty of speaking. When they had
recovered themselves so as to be able to give utterance to their words, they
poured forth their hearts in the tenderest accents to each other; and the young
gentleman’s father, who was present at this very moving scene, melted into
tears of joy at the happy encounter of the two lovers. He resolved they should
no longer sigh in vain for the completion of that happiness they both desired so
ardently to possess, and therefore immediately gave his consent, and they were married
privately the next day. No tongue can express the joy they experienced on this
occasion; and Mr. Wilson rejoiced also that his son had made so judicious a
choice. Their happiness was, however, of very short duration; for Mrs. Graham,
having heard of her daughter’s elopement, came to town with the utmost speed,
fully resolved to make her suffer still greater cruelty, if possible, than she
had ever before inflicted on her.
She flew to Mr. Wilson’s, where
finding the happy pair together, she began to upbraid miss Polly in the
severest terms; and told her she would from that hour disown her. In vain did
Mr. Wilson endeavour to appease her anger: all he could say to palliate her
daughter’s supposed crime, enraged her the more: she flung out of the house
with the greatest indignation; and when she came home, sent for a lawyer, made
her will, and cut her child off with a shilling.
Miss Polly in about two months
proved with child; and this, though a subject of joy to her husband and his
father, was no small grief to her, Mrs. Graham having, with no less industry
than malice, reported that the infant concealed in her daughter’s womb was
illegitimate, which made all her acquaintance, who had hitherto behaved to her
with the greatest respect, now treat her with the utmost indifference. All
this, though it deeply affected her, she strove to bear with the greatest
resignation; and, at the end of ten months, she was brought to-bed of a lovely
boy. She sent to her mother, acquainting her, in the most dutiful manner, with
her situation, and earnestly intreated her to come and see her; thinking that
her resentment would be cooled at the sight of the dear pledge of her marriage.
She was unfortunately mistaken; and her mother shewed by her answer, that she
was long become a stranger to those sentiments of affection which she ought to
have entertained for her daughter’s issue.
Mr. Wilson, who studied to mitigate
his wife’s sorrow at her mother’s ill treatment, was under the disagreeable
necessity of leaving her for some time to go over to Jamaica, in order to
settle some affairs of his father’s. The old gentleman having received advice
of the sudden death of a correspondent, it was absolutely necessary that
somebody should be sent thither to secure some property belonging to him, and
which he was in great danger of losing; so that, not being able to go himself
on account of age, and other infirmities, he resolved to send his son to that
island, with instructions and full power to act in every thing as he thought
proper. The young gentleman accordingly embarked, and after a prosperous voyage
of two months arrived at the desired port.
During her husband’s absence, Mrs.
Wilson had the mortification to see old Mr. Wilson fall dangerously ill of a
fever, which, in about ten days, put a period to his life. She was now more
perplexed than ever. He had made no will, and consequently there was no
provision made for her. She immediately dispatched a letter to her husband,
acquainting him with his father’s death, and conjured him to return as soon as
possible, to take care of his father’s effects; and she acted with so much
prudence till he returned, which was not till the end of four months, that he
found every thing to his satisfaction. After having discharged all his father’s
debts, he found himself in the possession of 30,000 l.
He now began to act for himself, and
for five years went on with the greatest success. After that he met with
several misfortunes: two of his correspondents, with whom he was largely
concerned, became bankrupts; and he was obliged at length to take refuge,
together with his wife and child, in
He had not been long in London,
before he found an opportunity of employing himself in a way perfectly adapted
to his capacity. An eminent timber-merchant, named Mr. Ward, had occasion for a
clerk; and Mr. Wilson, by the recommendation of some friends, obtained the
place. The salary was 100l. a year. Mrs. Wilson also, by working privately in
the millenery way, contributed to the maintenance of the family, which was now
increased to four: and thus living frugally on the fruits of their industry,
they endeavoured to forget that they had ever been in a higher station.
It was at this time that captain Pierce
arrived in England from Bengal. His great knowledge in naval affairs had caused
him to be raised to the dignity of a commodore; and no one doubted but he would
soon be created an admiral. He still retained the same affection for his former
flame; and understanding that she had been married, and was now greatly fallen
from the state of affluence she enjoyed when he first became acquainted with
her, he determined to attempt her virtue with the all-powerful force of gold.
He made an attempt by offering her 100 guineas, on condition that she would
comply with his unjust request. Her virtue was proof against every attack he
could make, and she told her husband of his behaviour. Mr. Wilson thereupon
sent him a challenge, purposing rather to hazard his life than suffer such an
insult on his wife’s honour to go unresented.
The day was fixed, and the two
combatants met in Hyde-Park. They pushed at each other vigorously for some
time, till after a fierce combat of near half an hour, victory declared itself
in favour of commodore Pierce, who unfortunately gave Mr. Wilson a thrust in
the left side, near the heart. He fell down on the grass, and had but just time
to call on his dear wife, before he expired. His antagonist immediately fled,
and taking post-horses soon arrived at
Mrs. Wilson, when she heard of the
death of her husband, was seized with greater grief than can be expressed: a
high fever followed, which terminated in a violent madness, and made it
indispensably necessary that she should be confined. Luckily for her children,
she happened at that time to be at the house of a relation of Mr. Wilson’s, who
very humanely took care of them during her illness, which lasted above two
months. When she recovered, she began to reflect on her unhappy situation; and
the scene of complicated distress, which presented itself to her view, was so
affecting as to drive her almost to despair. It was, however, a consolation in
the midst of her misfortunes, that she still remained virtuous, which she
preferred beyond all the honours and riches this world can afford.
Her mother dying at this time, she
became possessed of an annuity of 30 pounds a year, which an aunt, who had
inherited all Mrs. Graham’s fortune, allowed her, on account of her great
distress. With this small income, and what her business of a milliner produced,
she hoped to maintain herself, and bring up her children. She took lodgings in
Brewer-street, and was pretty fortunate in getting business, every body being
eager to give her something to do, as they saw she took great pains to support
her two infants.
She continued a widow for some
years, and though several tradesmen of reputation had often addressed her, she
never listened to any of them. She at length suffered herself to be
over-persuaded by some acquaintance, to receive the visits of Mr. Jones a
wealthy mercer in
The mercer behaved pretty well to
her for the first five months that they lived together; at the end of which
time she proved with child, and then a new scene of trouble opened, which began
by his growing jealous of her, and ended in a separation from each other. She
had been at the play one evening with a merchant’s wife, whose son, a young
gentleman of about twenty three years of age, and who possessed every
qualification that could render him amiable to the fair sex, was one of the
party. He was particularly charmed with Mrs. Jones, and when the representation
was over, he insisted on accompanying her home. This she with some difficulty
consented to, and a coach being called, they were carried to her house. They
were no sooner arrived at the place than her husband opened the door; and
seeing the young gentleman hand her out of the coach, he changed countenance,
and all the signs of jealousy were visible in him. He could scarce even observe
common decency to the merchant’s son, who, perceiving his humour, took his
leave immediately, refusing to stay supper, though hard pressed by Mrs. Jones.
When he was gone, Mr. Jones began to
upbraid his wife with breach of fidelity to him, in terms which shocked her
very much. In vain did she plead her innocence: he still continued to reproach
her, and even declared his intention not to live any longer with her. Six weeks
passed in this disagreeable manner, when at last he told her, that not being
able any longer to cohabit with a woman who had once been false to him, at the
instigation of his friends, he had taken the resolution of parting with her,
and ordered her to quit his house without delay. He further told her, he would
take on himself the education of her little son by Mr. Wilson, but that she was
not to expect any farther assistance from him, and therefore he desired she
would never make any application to him on that account.
She quitted his house that very day
with a heavy heart, and took with her only what was barely necessary, leaving
behind her several valuable things, besides some jewels, together with a gold
watch, which he had made her a present of, and she took a ready furnished
lodging in the same house where she had lived before her second marriage, and
reassumed her former employment of a milliner. But business did not answer so
well now as before, and she moreover found, that her husband’s jealousy had
reached the ears of her acquaintance in the neighbourhood where she now lived,
who being more inclined to credit any false report raised to her prejudice,
than to inquire into the truth of it, easily believed her to be full as guilty
as she had been represented.
This gave her much pain, and seeing
herself despised by those who before were her greatest friends, she resolved to
make away with herself in the Thames. She was going to put the horrid design in
execution, when a woman, who brought her some work, knocked at the door. The
unexpected arrival of the stranger diverted her thoughts from this melancholy
purpose, and the assurance she received of being supplied with as much as she
could do, encouraged her so far, as to make her lay aside the intention of
making away with herself, but her troubles and agitation of mind caused an
abortion.
An unlucky accident happened soon
after, which deprived her of her present means of subsistence. She went one day
to receive a bill of about ten pounds which was due, and on her return home,
found that her lodgings had been robbed of fine laces, cambrics, and other
things to a considerable amount. This made her almost distracted; but
recollecting her thoughts, she determined to advertise the things with a reward
for the recovery of them. It was to no purpose; and not being able to discover
the thief, she was forced to deliver all she was worth to satisfy those persons
who had intrusted her with them.
In this perplexing situation, she
took a new lodging in a court near Pall-Mall, and set up a little school, to
teach reading and plain work: but nothing seemed to prosper with her; and she
soon found herself obliged to throw up this undertaking. She next advertised
for a place as a lady’s maid; but nothing of that kind offering, she saw
herself reduced to her last guinea, when an event happened, which afforded some
present relief.
She happened one day to meet Mr.
Jones, her husband, who accosted her, and perceiving she looked very
melancholy, inquired into the cause of it. When he was acquainted with her
misfortunes, since their separation, he told her he was extremely sorry for
what had happened to her, and added, that if she would return home with him,
his future behaviour should convince her how sorry he was for having treated
her so cruelly without any just reason. This she absolutely refused; saying she
could not entirely forget his former ill usage; and that she only desired a
little assistance untill she could put herself in a way of earning her bread.
He gave her two guineas, with a promise of a weekly allowance of half a guinea;
which he caused to be punctually paid for some time. With this allowance she
began to live comfortably, untill he, growing tired of contributing to the
support of his injured wife, withdrew his allowance, and she was reduced to her
former state of indigence.
She was now forced to dispose of the
best of her cloaths to support herself, and must have inevitably perished for
want, had not a friend of hers, with great difficulty, and much intercession,
procured her a post in Drury-lane play-house, where she became dresser to one
of the greatest actresses of her time. She remained there two years, and
maintained herself genteelly with a sallary of fifteen shillings per week,
untill she met with another misfortune, which deprived her also of this mean of
procuring a subsistence. This was no other than that of breaking her leg, by
which accident, being destitute of friends, she was obliged to go to an
hospital for her cure. Whilst there, a young surgeon, who attended her, became
so much enamoured with her, that, after she was recovered, he offered an
hundred guineas for a grant of that which she could not allow, without
transgressing the rules of conjugal fidelity and chastity. Though she could
not, in her then condition, avoid hearing his proposals, yet she remained
inflexible against complying with his solicitations; and the young gentleman
was at last so charmed with her laudable firmness, that he obliged her to
accept, as an acknowledgement of his approbation of her conduct, the sum which
he had importuned her to receive for the sacrifice of her virtue.
Soon after receiving this money, she
had an opportunity of exercising her charity on an object truly deserving of
it, and who was a very near relation of her own, but by a series of calamities
was reduced to the greatest misery and distress.
She was walking in the ward one day,
when she was met by a tall elderly man, who desired to speak with her in
private. Surprised at being thus accosted by a person, who was an entire
stranger to her, she was much perplexed what to do. She was a great enemy to
private interviews with men, and her late rencounter with the surgeon had put
her yet more on her guard. However, considering there was nothing to apprehend
from a man, who seemed already emaciated with age and infirmity, she at last
consented to retire with him to a remote part of the room, to hear what he had
to say.
He began to tell her, he was greatly
surprised that she did not know him, and calling her by her maiden name, acquainted
her, that he was her own uncle by the mother’s side, that a chain of
unavoidable misfortunes had brought him to the lowest state of human misery,
and earnestly intreated her to give him some assistance. She at first doubted
the veracity of his story: but being afterwards convinced, that what he said
was strictly true, from his mentioning several circumstances relative to her
family, which, unless he had been nearly allied to it, he could never have
known, she gave him ten guineas; and he then proceeded to lay before her the
following account of himself.
CHAP. III.
“ABOUT the year
1743, I went to Turkey, in order to settle some affairs, the success of which
depended on my presence. When my business was finished, I prepared to return
home, and accordingly went on board a ship, whereof I was half owner, and which
was to touch at a port on the coast of Barbary. We had a prosperous voyage for
some days, when a violent storm overtaking us, we drove out of our course. We
lost all our masts, and were become a mere wreck. The storm abating, we were
employed in setting up jury masts, which we had no sooner done, than another
storm, more terrible than the former, came on, and so disabled our ship, that
we were obliged to take to our boat, carrying with us as much provision as we
could conveniently come at, together with a compass; and thus we endeavoured to
save our lives.
“Five days after we quitted the
vessel, we happily made land, but endeavouring to run the boat into a little
creek, she overset, and every soul in her perished except myself. I swam on
shore, and when I had returned thanks to kind heaven for having thus
miraculously saved my life, I walked about to see what sort of a place I was
in. To my great disappointment, I found I was in an uninhabited country, and
which seemed to afford nothing towards sustaining life. I now wished it had been
my fortune to have shared the fate of my companions, who were drowned, as I had
no other prospect before me but that of dying with hunger. To my great joy I
found a spring of fresh water, of which I drank plentifully; and being weary I
sat down, ruminating on my unhappy circumstances.
“I had not sat above half an hour,
musing on my misfortunes, when, the sea being calm, I perceived a man of war’s
long boat come on shore at the place where I was. They saw me, and called to
me, demanding my name, whence I came, and by what accident I was there. I gave
them a faithful account of what had happened to me, and afterwards, most
compassionately, they carried me on board with them, after I had assisted in
filling their water casks, which occasioned their landing on that island. I was
kindly received by the captain and all the officers; who, having made me rehearse
the particulars of my life, told me, “they would give me my passage to England,
provided I would assist them in an attack on the island of Gomera, one of the
Canaries belonging to the Spaniards, with whom we were at war.” This I agreed
to, and having weighed anchor, we sailed away very joyfully, highly pleased
with the flattering hopes of getting great riches in this expedition.
“In about four weeks time we made
Gomera, and coming as close under the island as we conveniently could, and
preparing to land some men, in order to begin the attack, we found, by their
firing some guns from a battery which lay on the point of a rock, that they
already expected us, and kept themselves in readiness to receive us. We
accordingly manned our boats, and I had the command of the pinnace, in which
were fifty men well armed. While the boat was getting on shore, we exchanged a
great many shot with them, and could see our balls strike against the rock,
but, by the dexterity of the rowers, theirs did not touch us. While we were
firing at each other, we saw a vessel run out from under a point of land that
lay about a league to the northward of us, and endeavoured to stretch over to
the island of Teneriffe, another of the Canaries; as soon as we saw her, we
hoisted a sail, which we had in the boat, and endeavoured to make towards her,
she being then about a league to the windward of us. She put about, and stood
close upon a wind. We chaced her for some time, she endeavouring, as we
imagined, to go round the west part of Gomera, but the wind being then N. W.
she was not able to weather the point, but ran in, and came to an anchor within
half a cable’s length of the shore.
“She was a bark of about sixty tuns
burthen, and there being no battery at that part of the island where she lay at
anchor, we imagined we could very easily board her. She was a Spanish
barcalonga, and came from the island of Palma, was bound to Teneriffe, laden
with sugar and brandy to put on board a galleon that lay at Santa Cruz. There
running a strong current, and the wind being just in our teeth, we were not
able to row the boat a-head with six oars, so made directly towards the shore,
and rowed alongside close under the land, the current not running so strong
there.
“We were three hours after we left
the ship before we got within musket shot of the bark, and then we unanimously
agreed to board her. Then said I, “my boys, the bark is our own, for the men belonging
to her have left her. Let us give them one volley and then board the bark.” We
had two swivels mounted on the bow of our boat, our master stepped forward to
one of them himself, and ordered me to the other; he bid me take the best aim I
could, and told me he would do the same. We had no sooner discharged the
swivels, but two or three hundred men came from behind the rocks. We had been
so long time in getting to the bark, that the men who belonged to her had
landed, gone up the country, and brought these people to their assistance.
“Our swivels being discharged, the
men from behind the rocks kept a constant fire at us. Our master received a
ball just above his right eye, and another grazed on my right shoulder. We
rowed directly to the bark. The lieutenant, myself, and four more leaped into
her, and those in the boat handed in our arms. As soon as we were in the bark,
our lieutenant ordered one of our men to take an axe, and cut the cable,
saying, “she would drive off.” I endeavoured to dissuade him, by telling him,
“if the cable was cut, she would certainly drive on shore,” for she then was
very near the land. He seemed a little angry at this, though had my advice been
followed, it had been better for us all; for as soon as his orders were obeyed,
she turned broadside to the sea, and in a few minutes after, struck a shore on
the rocks.
“By the bark’s swinging round, our
boat was exposed to the fire of the enemy, and while the Spaniards were engaged
with the boat, we in the bark kept firing on them. These in the boat, unable to
sustain the fight, sheered off. The Spaniards, seeing this, turned all their
fury on us, and the engagement was very hot on both sides. We fired at them as
fast as possible, and threw all our handgrenades on shore, which did some
execution on those who lay on that side of the rock. Our lieutenant was shot
through the head, most of our people, as well as myself, dangerously wounded,
and our powder almost exhausted. We called a council to consider on what was
best to be done; it was proposed that we should lay down our arms. To this I
objected, saying “we had better die like men, for that they would certainly
kill us when they came on board.” But they still insisting thereon, I agreed at
last to it. However, I still kept a blunderbuss in my hand, being desirous of
hearing what conditions they would offer.
“As soon as the Spaniards saw our
men had laid down their arms, they came on board. The first man they saw was
our lieutenant, whom, though he was dead, they began to cut in a most dreadful
manner. They exercised the same cruelty on one of the wounded, several of them
cutting him at once with their long hooks, though he cried out for mercy all
the time: and every one except myself was served in the same inhuman manner.
Seeing their cruelty to our men, I still kept the blunderbuss, and some of them
advancing towards me, I pointed it as if I was going to fire. On this, they all
ran to the other part of the bark, and from thence leap’d on shore.
“At that very instant a great sea running,
turned the bark on one side with her keel towards the shore. This gave me an
opportunity of pulling off my cloaths, and jumping into the water, in order to
swim to our ship. I swam a considerable way before they saw me. As soon as they
perceived I was endeavouring to escape, they began to fire at me from every
side, and their shot wounded me in six places. I kept on swimming, until I was
out of the reach of their balls; and doubtless I should have been able to have
swam to our own ship, had not the Spaniards launched their boat (which before was
hauled up between the rocks) and came after me; they rowed as fast as they
could, and as soon as they came near me, one of the men who stood in the bow of
the boat, and held a half pike in his hand, pointed it towards me, saying in
Spanish, “down, down, you English dog.” As I did not then understand him, he
repeated the same words, and pointed to the water. I guessed he meant I should
dive, which I presently did, and came up on the other side of the boat.
“As soon as I came up again, he
pointed a second time to the water, and said the same words as before. I was
resolved not to dive any more; chusing rather to be killed by them than to
drown myself. Seeing I refused to obey their orders, they talked some time among
themselves, and then beckoned to me to swim to the boat, which, as they lay on
their oars discoursing together, was driven by the current a good way from me.
When they found I did not come to them, they rowed to me, and pulled me into
the boat. As I stood upright, one of them struck me a blow on the breast, with
such violence, that it beat me backwards, and I fell to the bottom of the boat,
after which they rowed to land.
“When they came on shore, they
hauled me out of the boat, being very weak with swimming and the loss of blood.
On their bringing me on shore, the enraged multitude crowded round me, and
carried me a little way from the place where we landed. They then placed me
against a rock, and threatened to run me through with a half pike if I offered
to stir. Whilst I was placed against the rock, and expecting death every
moment, I saw a gentleman expostulating with the mob, and endeavouring to
prevail on them to spare my life. Afterwards he came directly to me, and said
in English, “Countryman, don’t be afraid; they want to kill you, but they shall
not.” He then turned his back, stood close before me, and oppening his breast, saying,
“If they shot me, they should shoot him also.”
“The Spaniards being a little appeased at this surprising act of humanity, my deliverer took that opportunity to plead in my behalf. He told them, that, If they had killed me, while we were engaged with each other, they would have been excusable, both in the sight of God and man, because it was by way of self-defence; but that now I was unarmed, and incapable of doing them any harm, if they dared to kill me, my blood would certainly be required at their hands, and God would surely punish them for it hereafter. He said, that at most I was but a prisoner of war, and having made a brave defence, I ought to be esteemed for my valour. He further added, that being dangerously wounded, humanity, and the religion they professed, obliged them to dress my wounds, and use all possible means for my recovery.
“He used
many other arguments besides, but not understanding Spanish, I did not
comprehend what he said. I saw, notwithstanding, he was very pressing with them
in my favour, and at length, they were entirely appeased. He led me home with
him, caused me to be put to bed, and provided me with a good surgeon, and all
other necessaries, where I remained five months before I was completely cured.
My generous deliverer then gave me a handsome sum of money, procured me a
passage in a ship bound to
“I did not however long enjoy this turn of good fortune; being once on board of a ship which was unloading, I accidentally fell down into the hold, and had the misfortune to break my thigh. I was carried on shore directly, put into a coach, and conveyed hither. I have since learned that another has been put into my place; so that I am now destitute of every means of subsistence”.
CHAP. IV.
MRS. Jones listened to this mournful relation of her uncle with great attention; and when he had done speaking, she told him she would think of some way to procure him a livelihood, and bid him not be disheartened, for that he should never want while she could assist him.
She quitted the hospital about a fortnight after this, taking her uncle alomg with her. At the persuasion of some friends, she took a little retired house near Hammersmith, and put up a bill for lodging and board for single and widow ladies. Her affable behaviour procured her many friends; and it was not long before four gentlewomen of good family agreed to lodge and board with her at the rate of 40l. per annum. She had also the satisfaction to see her son, by her first husband Mr. Wilson, settled in business as a linen draper, and going on very prosperously. He was married to an agreeable young lady called Miss Sally Thompson, whose virtues are too conspicuous not to deserve a part in this history.
She was
born near
She had not been long at the
business, before her mistress found, to her great satisfaction, her trade
increase greatly to what it was before Miss Sally engaged herself with her,
especially amongst the young gentlemen who frequented the shop, to whom she
always behaved with a most becoming modesty, and great complaisance.
The fame of Miss Sally’s beauty had,
by this time, reached all the smarts and beaux in town, so that she had an
infinite number of admirers, many of whom were dying for her, or at least
pretended to be so. Among these was a young gentleman whose name was Lloyd. His
father was a captain in the army, and, besides his commission, had a
considerable estate in Scotland. This young gentleman was of a sweet
disposition, and an only son. His father was consequently as fond of him as the
most indulgent parent could be. However, the young gentleman, fearing his
father’s displeasure, endeavoured for the present to control his passion for
his adorable goddess, as he often called her; and therefore tried as much as
possible to divert his thoughts from the object of his love, by going to his
father’s seat in the country, where he employed himself in hunting, and other
rural exercises; at the same time, visiting all the gentlemen in the
neighbourhood, and receiving visits from them. This lasted near three months,
when he was in hopes he had gained an absolute conquest over Cupid; and doubted
not, but that he might safely return to London, without the least fear of a
relapse. But how much he was mistaken the sequel will evidently demonstrate;
for, meeting his charmer by chance in St. James’s Park, he was so surprisingly
affected at the sight of her, that he could hardly support himself on his
unnerved legs; but recovering a little, after turning pale several times, he
thus addressed himself to the idol of his soul.
“Dear Miss Thompson, though I have
not the pleasure of being known to you more than by speaking to you once or
twice at Mrs. Martin’s, and consequently you may naturally suspect my design
not to be so honourable as it really is; I have only this favour to beg at
present, that you will not engage yourself to any body, until such time as I
shall find an opportunity of informing you, in a more particular manner than I
have now leisure to do, what advantageous proposals I shall be able to make
you, and which I will satisfy you of by a letter in about a week; for I am not
ashamed to confess that I doat on you more than on any woman in the universe.”
Miss Sally, upon hearing this, was
greatly astonished; and, though she endeavoured several times to answer the
young gentleman, yet she could utter nothing more, than, “Sir, you do me too
much honour,” which in her confusion, she repeated several times. Mr. Lloyd
perceiving her much discomposed at what he had advanced, soon construed it to
his own advantage, by concluding that it proceeded from the sincere profession
he had made of his inclination for her, and began to hope, that what he had
expressed to her was not in the least disagreeable. He therefore took his leave
of her in a most obliging manner, after having offered his service to wait on
her home, which she would by no means accept of. He went directly to his
father’s, but could not rest all that night for meditating on his late
interview with his queen of love. Notwithstanding Miss Sally was not so much
enamoured as her spark, yet, when she consulted her pillow on the subject, it
raised some emotions in her mind, which she had never experienced before; and,
being much perplexed with doubts and fears, she was once going to communicate
her thoughts to her fellow prentice who lay with her; but thinking that might
be of dangerous consequence to the young gentleman, as probably the affair
might, by that means, reach his father’s ears, she then, upon mature
consideration, chose not to entrust, even her bosom friend, with the secret.
She had no sooner fixed on this prudent resolution, before the watchman, who
drousily cried “Past three o’clock,” seemed to intimate the necessity of
composing herself to sleep, which she accordingly did.
Mr. Lloyd did not fail punctually to
perform his promise to his dear Sally, by sending a letter at the appointed
time, which she received by a private hand. When she opened it, not having
power to do so for some time, she read as follows:
“Charming SALLY,
I Find it
impossible to survive any longer without you, and therefore beg you will write
to your mother, in order to sollicit her concurrence in regard to the enclosed
proposals. I have given some distant hints to my father concerning you, and he
told me, that if I married a virtuous, discreet woman, of an honest reputable
family, he should not be over anxious as to her fortune; but hoped I would not
be too precipitate about it, as I was full young enough to be embarassed with
the cares of the world. Hitherto I have always obeyed my father in every respect,
with the utmost submission, as really no parent can be more fond of a child
than he is of me: but, should he thwart my inclination towards you, I cannot
answer what may be the consequence; for, although my duty to him is very great,
yet my love to you, if put in competition, will be found to be much greater.
But supposing any obstacle should fall in the way to prevent my gaining his
consent to marry you, and as I am not yet of age, and therefore cannot inherit
the large fortune which I am intitled to by the will of an uncle of mine, yet I
have already an estate of 200l. a year, which is in my own power, being left me
by my mother, to commence as soon as I am twenty years of age, and which will
be sufficient to support us, until I am in possession of the other. The truth
of this you may easily be convinced of, by consulting counsellor M—hy in
Farewel, my divine angel,
Yours with the utmost
sincerity,
ANDREW LLOYD.”
“P.S. I should take it as
an inestimable blessing, if you would favour me with a line or two in answer to
this, directed for T.S. to be left at the Rainbow Coffee-house, Temple-bar.”
This letter puzzled Miss Sally very
much; for, though she knew that the young gentleman was really son to captain
Lloyd, and might be thoroughly confirmed of all he had mentioned in regard to
his fortune, yet she thought it advisable to be better informed of his temper,
before she suffered herself to be more deeply engaged with him than she was
already. Indeed she was not insensible, that the offers he made to her were
infinitely beyond what she could ever, in all likelihood, expect from any one
else, nor was she at all averse to his person or behaviour, both which were
unexceptionable. However, before she proceeded any farther in the affair, she
thought it her indispensable duty to let her mother know the true state of the
case, and be entirely governed by her directions. After reading the letter, as
she was coming down stairs, she saw her mistress sitting behind the counter,
and two ladies richly dressed talking with her, wherefore she endeavoured to
slip into the kitchen unperceived; but the ladies, being extremely desirous to
converse with her, begged Mrs. Martin to call her back, which she did
instantly. One of the ladies asked her, “how she liked
Mrs. Thompson, having perused her
daughter’s letter, was much perplexed with scruples and doubts, lest Mr.
Lloyd’s proposals might be only a contrivance to seduce her. She therefore
wrote to Mrs. Martin, unknown to her daughter, desiring her to inquire into the
whole particulars of the amour between Mr. Lloyd and Sally; begging her likewise
to inform herself what estate he had at present, and what more fortune he was
likely to expect. Mrs. Martin, being very well acquainted with captain Lloyd’s
sister, took the opportunity of making her a visit, when she intimated, among
other topics of conversation, that it had been hinted to her a few days ago,
that Miss Forward had fallen in love with Mr. Lloyd. To which Mrs. Lloyd
replied, “She had never heard a tittle of it, and hoped her nephew would not be
in haste to marry as yet, as she thought it would be better to stay until he
came of age, when he would be in possession of an estate of near 1500l. per
annum, which was left him by her brother; though, said she, he has now 200l. a
year in his own hands, which was my sister Lloyd’s jointure; besides, when the
captain dies, he will have another estate of 400l. per annum.” This account Mrs.
Martin faithfully transmitted to Mrs. Thompson immediately, and thereby solved
all her suspicions in regard to Mr. Lloyd’s circumstances. She had now no other
fears, than that he should by some stratagem deceive her daughter, under
pretence of making her his wife; and therefore sent Sally the following
precautions:
“Dear Child,
I Find by a letter
from your mistress yesterday, that Mr. Lloyd will have an exceeding great
fortune, but still that does not entirely make me easy at his courting you, for
young gentlemen of this age find many ways to impose on the credulity of our
sex, therefore remember the advice I gave you in my last letter. There is one
thing I look upon as absolutely necessary, which is, that Mr. Lloyd should, by
all means, obtain his father’s consent before he proceeds any farther, without
which I can never think of giving you mine.
I
am your affectionate mother,
MARY THOM
The next time Miss Sally saw Mr.
Lloyd, she disclosed to him her mother’s sentiments of obtaining his father’s
approbation in his keeping her company as a material point before they were too
far engaged to each other. He answered, that he did not in the least doubt his
father’s compliance, and, to satisfy her, he would endeavour soon to procure
it; but at the same time gave her to understand, that she shewed but little
regard for him, to be so nicely scrupulous, after he had dealt so ingenuously
with her; that she studied nothing so much as to make every thing agreeable to
her, and solemnly protested, he had no other view than to render her life as
comfortable as might be, and was extremely disappointed to find his honourable
proposals had met with no better success. This last sentence he spoke with a
kind of warmth which she had never before observed in him; and therefore she
replied, that what she had imparted was without any design to offend him, since
it was her mother’s earnest request, which she must beg him to consider on, for
his own sake as well as hers. She plainly saw, by the abrupt manner with which
Mr. Lloyd took his leave of her, that he went away not so well satisfied at her
discourse as she could wish; but as all she had mentioned, was done purely with
an intention to preserve a perfect tranquillity between his father and him, she
was not so concerned at it, as she would otherwise have been. The next morning,
Mr. Lloyd came to her in a much pleasanter humour than he had left her the
night before: he had prevailed on his aunt to intercede with his father in her
behalf: Mrs. Lloyd had seen her often, both at Mrs. Martin’s and at the
captain’s, where she used to carry things for her mistress; and Miss Sally was
a great favourite with Mrs. Lloyd. Mr. Lloyd acquainted her with this, and
likewise assured her, that his father had actually promised his aunt, that he
would go to Mrs. Martin’s, and if he found Miss Sally was so agreeable as he
and Mrs. Lloyd had represented, he would not be against his marrying her in
about half a year’s time.
In a few days after, as captain
Lloyd had given his word to his sister, that he would call to take a view of Sally,
he took an opportunity of going to Mrs. Martin’s to bespeak some linen, where
he saw Sally sitting in the shop at work. She was dressed, as usual, very neat.
Tho’ there were other apprentices in the shop besides her, he needed not to be
informed which was she; for fixing his eyes on her, he immediately asked her
several questions concerning her country, to all which she answered so
pertinently, that the old captain began to be almost as much enamoured as his
son; so that when he went home, he told his sister, that he thought Andrew had
an excellent taste, for he must needs confess, he never beheld a more sensible and
beautiful girl in his life. This gave Mrs. Lloyd infinite joy, as she was
sensible her nephew doated on Sally; and therefore, as soon as she saw him, she
communicated to him the agreeable tidings. At the news of his good fortune, he
seemed quite transported, but did not forget to return his aunt thanks for her
kind services to him in favour of his lovely Miss Thompson.
Mr. Lloyd now thought of nothing but
going to his dear charmer, to beg her to write to her mother for her permission
to hasten the auspicious hour, wherein he should join his Sally in the
honourable state of wedlock. When he had dined, he set out with the utmost
expedition to acquaint his nymph with the issue of his father’s visit to Mrs.
Martin, and what he said in commendation of her. All the way he went, he was
pleasing himself with the thoughts how surprised and overjoyed she would be at
this turn of affairs in their favour. But when he came to her mistress’s, and
found she was not at home, he was greatly disappointed, being forced to return
to the captain’s without seeing her.
CHAP. V.
SALLY had been sent
out, about half an hour before Mr. Lloyd came, to a lady near Grosvenor-square,
who insisted on her staying to drink tea. As she was going back to Mrs.
Martin’s, she unluckily mistook her way, and the evening approaching, she inquired
of a woman, very gaily dressed, the way to St. James’s-street, who told her,
she would conduct her thither, if she would go along with her. Accordingly they
both went together, but before they had proceeded far, the woman knocked at a
door, which Sally perceiving would have taken leave of her. The woman desired
her to step in, telling her, she was going immediately to St. James’s street
herself. Sally, thinking it would be safer to have some body with her, than to
go through the streets alone as it was now dusk, went in with the woman; which
she had scarcely done, before she, and another woman (the skin of whose face
resembled the rind of a coarse grained Seville orange) compelled her to go up
stairs into a room that was pretty well furnished, and both threatened, if she
offered to make the least noise, to murder her that minute. It was in vain to
resist, so she submitted herself to the will of the two women, and seemed to be
tolerably well composed, while they stayed with her: but when they were gone,
ruminating on the terrible situation she was in, she could contain her grief no
longer, and began to weep most bitterly; and at the same time, threw herself on
the bed in a fit of despair. This lasted not long, for a young girl, who
over-heard her, came up stairs, and begged her to seem as easy as possible;
since, if she shewed any discontent, the women of the house would use her
extremely ill, but if she would only disguise her uneasiness two or three days,
very likely they would let her have her liberty again. The girl left her, and
returned soon after with some cold roasted mutton, and some small beer. Sally
told her she had no stomach to eat, and desired she would take it away again;
but the girl answered, her mistress had ordered her to eat something lest she
should be sick, which when she had done, she might go to bed as soon as she
thought proper. Sally, fearing to disoblige her, endeavoured to eat a little,
but in vain, so that the girl was forced to take the victuals away.
The girl soon after came to tell
Sally that she was to lie with her, and that her mistress would have them go to
bed directly. This message was not at all agreeable to Sally, who dreaded the
consequences that might ensue; but on being told, she need not be apprehensive
of any surprise in the night, she then undressed, though not without shewing
some signs of diffidence. When Sally and the girl were laid down, the latter
told her, that Mrs. D—y had trepanned her in a very artful manner, when she
first came to London; the particulars of which, are as follow:
“I was born at Birmingham in
Warwickshire: my father was an exciseman. Some time since, a gentlewoman of
“Thus I continued for about two
days, when an elderly gentleman, called Mr.
O——y, came with her
to see me. She ordered me not to disoblige him in any thing whatever;
threatening, in case I did, to punish me most severely. She told me he was her
brother, and that in all likelihood, if he approved of my behaviour, he would
marry me; that though he was not so young as I could wish, yet he was very
rich, and would give me a coach; and that above all he was very good natured.
By these and such like artful insinuations, she gained an easy conquest over my
unexperienced age, especially as I much feared her ill usage if I did not
comply.
“Next morning, the old gentleman
came to the house to breakfast, and an elegant dinner and supper were also
provided for him, at which he behaved with gaiety and good humour. The wine and
punch went freely round; and though I drank very moderately, yet I do not
remember being put to bed, or any single circumstance that occurred, till I
found myself in the arms of my lover at daybreak. Matters were then gone too
far to shew any regret at what had passed; so I resolved to make a virtue of
necessity, and make myself as agreeable to him as I could.
“He quitted the house in about a
week’s time, and made me a present of five guineas; but what he gave my
mistress I know not. However, when I came to reflect seriously on this affair,
it gave me inexpressible concern. When he was gone, Mrs. D—y told me, if I
would live with her, I should want for nothing that love or money could obtain;
should be drest in the richest cloaths, and frequent all places of public
diversion; and farther, if I was a good girl, and minded my business, I could
not fail of getting a great deal of money and rich presents, as none but
persons of quality frequented her house. Finding I was obliged to comply, I
agreed to her proposals, though I intended to make my escape the very first
opportunity.”
Poor Sally, on hearing this, began
to lament most bitterly, for fear she should also undergo the same fate. She
begged the girl to assist her, which she faithfully promised to do. She tried
several times to close her eyes, in order to forget her wretched state, yet the
distraction of her mind would not suffer her to take any rest for that night.
About
Sally, who never neglected, night
and morning, to implore the blessing and assistance of Providence, thought she
could not spend her time more advantageously, during the calamitous situation
she was in, than by pouring out her complaints before the throne of that
Almighty Being, in whose protection alone she confided. Hearing the girl coming
up soon after, she got off her knees, and went to open the door: the girl
entering told her, there had been a gentleman that morning, one Mr. Israel a
Jew, who inquired if there was any new ware? and who, with
difficulty, was prevented by her mistress, and her cousin, from coming up stairs
to see her, but they would not let him, which occasioned a sad quarrel, and
provoked Mr. Israel so much, that he threatened, in revenge, to get a constable
and take them both up, by which means, said the girl, we shall be released of
course.
This welcome news quite inspired the
fair captive, especially when she was farther informed
by the girl, that Mrs. D—y seemed to think the Jew would keep his promise, as
he went away in a terrible passion. It is now, however, time to return to Mrs.
Martin and Mr. Lloyd, to see what effect Sally’s absence had on them. Mr. Lloyd
sent a footman to Mrs. Martin’s between ten and eleven o’clock that night Sally
went on her errand, to inquire if she was returned home. He saw Mrs. Martin
herself, who expressed a great deal of concern at her being out so late, for
fear any accident should befall her, and was very sorry she had not sent one of
the apprentices with her. When the footman told Mr. Lloyd, that Miss Thompson
was not come home, he was like one frantic, and running up and down the
parlour, it was a considerable time before he could be appeased, even by his
father and aunt, notwithstanding the many arguments they used to induce him
thereto. When he had recovered himself a little, he desired his father to let
the footman go once more to Mrs. Martin’s, and if she was not come home to go
where Sally had been, to ask what time she went from thence. But all this did
not answer the intent, for though the footman sought her with the utmost care,
and inquired of every person that was likely to give him any intelligence about
her, yet he could meet with no body that had seen such a one as he described.
The footman brought word that Miss Thompson went from the lady’s house about
eight o’clock at night. Mr. Lloyd, being dissatisfied with the unsuccessfulness
of the first search, ordered men to go the next day to seek her with all
possible diligence, even four miles every way round London; and in case they
did not find her then, he resolved to advertise her immediately in the news
papers. Mrs. Martin likewise sent a messenger to every one of her customers
houses, and to every other place she could think of, where Sally usually went,
but this also proved ineffectual. At last she determined to send a person to
inquire, at all the wharfs below bridge, if Miss Thompson had been seen any
where thereabouts, as it was not improbable, but that she might be kidnapped
away, as it was then a common practice in London, for fellows called
kidnappers, to decoy young men and women, together with children, in order to
send them abroad. As an instance of which, some years ago, the son of a
gentleman in Surry was bought of some kidnappers by a captain of a ship trading
to
Mrs. Martin had been out on some
business, and in her return home happened to pass by Mrs. D—y’s, where a great
mob and constables were assembled. She inquired into the cause; and was told,
that two vile infamous women had decoyed several young girls into their house
with an intent to prostitute them. This excited Mrs. Martin’s curiosity; and,
imagining that perhaps Sally might have been trepanned thither, she resolved to
go in. The constables soon broke open Mrs. D—y’s door, which the mob had no
sooner entered than they presently went up stairs, but found only Sally, and
the other girl. The two daughters of Lucifer had decamped, making their escape
through a back alley. However, the mob instantly began to break the windows,
and plunder the apartments of all the furniture; and it was with much
difficulty that the peace officers could restrain them from levelling the house
with the ground. Mrs. Martin was surprised with horror and distraction at the
wickedness of these infamous wretches, who make no conscience of corrupting the
unwary and innocent, and involving them in all the disgrace and misery that
attend prostitution. She followed the mob into the very room where Sally was,
who, seeing her mistress, ran immediately to her, and embraced her in the most
tender manner. Mrs. Martin was for some minutes unable to speak; but at length
recovering herself, she acquainted the constables who Sally was; and the young lady
informed them how she had been seduced by Mrs. D—y. A coach was immediately
called, and she went very joyfully home with her mistress. As soon as they
reached Mrs. Martin’s house, a messenger was sent to Mr. Lloyd, to acquaint him
with the agreeable news of Sally’s return; of which he had no sooner received
notice than he took coach, and went instantly to her. He asked her where she
had been all the time she was missing: and she related to him every
circumstance that had happened to her during her absence. Being extremely
affected with this account, he begged of her mistress that she would never for
the future let her go any where without somebody to attend her, and Mrs. Martin
assured him that she never should. Mr. Lloyd enjoyed the pleasure of her company
all that day; and in the evening on his return home, acquainted his aunt with
the disaster which had befallen Miss Sally. He concluded with imploring Mrs.
Lloyd to join him in requesting his father to let the nuptials between Miss
Thompson and him be solemnized as soon as possible, for fear of a worse
misfortune happening to her, which his aunt kindly promised to use all her
endeavours to accomplish, and was as good as her word; for she prevailed on
captain Lloyd to assure her, upon his honour, they should be married as soon as
it was convenient. Mr. Lloyd was in a very little time informed by his aunt of
this particular, which he did not fail to communicate to his lovely Sally;
desiring her at the same time to write to her mother to acquaint her of his
father’s kind resolution. She did so, and by the return of the post, received
the following answer:
“Dear Child,
I Beg you’ll tell
Mr. Lloyd, that I think myself infinitely obliged to him for the honour he
designs you and myself, and should be glad to have it in my power to make him
amends for his great condescension: but as I have little hopes of that, I shall
always make it a part of my daily prayers, that Heaven may pour down the
choicest of its blessings upon him, and preserve him in health and long life,
and that my dearest daughter may ever retain a grateful sense of that
generosity and benevolence which he has so kindly bestowed on her. Pray tell
him likewise, that I am sorry I cannot possibly wait on him against the day he
intends to bless my dear Sally; for, alas, the poor worthy lady, with whom I
live, is dangerously ill of a pleuretick fever, and her life is despaired of,
and will by no means suffer me to be absent from her a minute, night or day; so
that I desire you will let him know, that I heartily wish you both all the joy
and prosperity imaginable, and present you my blessing.
I
remain your loving mother,
ANNE THOM
Sally had no sooner
read the letter than she sent it to Mr. Lloyd; who, when he had perused it,
sent it back to her, inclosed in another letter, wherein he earnestly entreated
her to be as expeditious as possible in getting the necessary preparations,
since she found her mother was prevented from coming, and therefore he hoped
that she would do all in her power to hasten the happy moment, which he now so
impatiently wished for. In the afternoon, Mr. Lloyd went to Sally’s mistress;
and inquiring when she thought all the things would be ready, was told, that in
about ten days at farthest all should be prepared. He drank tea with Mrs.
Martin and Sally; and afterwards insisted on their going with him to the Star
and Garter in Pall-mall, where an elegant supper was provided. As soon as the
repast was over, Mr. Lloyd presented Sally with a bank bill of an hundred
pounds, and desired her mistress to assist her in buying the wedding cloaths,
and whatever else she thought necessary. He also gave Sally an exceeding neat
gold repeating watch, with a gold chain, &c. and a diamond ring; and told
Mrs. Martin, that as for the residue of the time which Miss Thompson was to
have served, he would make her ample satisfaction. Mr. Lloyd likewise promised
Miss Sally, that he would settle two hundred pounds a year on her, in case he
should die before her, and that in case of his surviving his father, he would
add two hundred and fifty more to that sum, all which should be executed, by
his father and himself, in a deed engrossing under the direction of counsellor
M——hy, beforementioned. He then addressed himself to Sally, and proposed, if it
was agreeable to her, to fix the nuptials for a fortnight thence at farthest,
as Mrs. Martin thought that all things could be got ready before that time.
Sally answered, that as her mother had been invited to be present at the
wedding, she should be glad to hear from her before the day was agreed on, and
that she would write to her again by the first post, to know whether she could
come; promising, that as soon as she received an answer, she would acquaint him
with it. He was highly pleased with what she said, and after spending the
evening most delightfully, he took his leave, and Miss Sally returned with her
mistress.
She took the first opportunity of
writing to her mother as follows:
“Honoured Mother,
MR. Lloyd has
desired me to acquaint you, that he has appointed this day fortnight for our
matrimonial union, and would be glad to have you in
I
am your most dutiful daughter,
S. THOM
The return of the post brought Miss
Sally an answer, intimating that her mother intended to be in London at the
time appointed for the marriage. Mr. Lloyd, in consequence of this
intelligence, acquainted Mrs. Martin, that his father, aunt, and himself,
intended to breakfast with her, Miss Thompson, and her mother, at
CHAP. VI.
THE happiness,
which the loving couple enjoyed in each other’s company, received no small
addition from the agreeable intimacy between them and a certain society, lately
instituted, at the expence of some ladies of quality and fortune, for the
reception of such women as were of family, and who had been bred in credit and
reputation in the world. This place, which was known by the name of Bounty-Hall,
and of which I shall hereafter give a more full account, was erected as an
asylum for the innocent and virtuous, where they enjoyed not only the common
conveniences of life, but also many of its superfluities, yet not so as to
render them incapable of occupations suitable to their sex and condition. The
time of this female community was employed either in the exercise of social
duties, or in those fine works which are only proper for female fingers. The
politeness and affability, with which they treated strangers, charmed all who
saw them, and endeared them to every person of virtue who heard of their manner
of living. New plans of charities engrossed a good deal of their attention; and
among these they formed one for the benefit of those whose minds are not
properly instructed in their youth, and who, as they are not destitute of the
necessaries of life, are too seldom considered as objects of charity: for the
patronesses and inhabitants of Bounty-Hall, far from thinking poverty the only
evil which Christian benevolence should remove, did not even look upon it as
the most important, but esteemed the soul, which is the noblest and most
durable part of us, as the chief object of their care and solicitude. It
appeared evident to them, that the imprudent and frequently vicious course of
life, into which too many fall, proceeded most commonly from a defect in
education; and that the case was the same with regard to both sexes: but the
education of boys was out of their sphere. They aimed no farther than to
rectify some of the errors in female education. I shall, however, dwell no
longer on their institution at present, as I shall give a full description of
it at the end of these memoirs, but proceed to the narration of the most
remarkable incidents relative to some of the principal inhabitants of this
truly virtuous and happy abode.
One day, these ladies paid a visit,
as they usually did two or three times a week, to Mrs. Jones, who, as has been
already observed, kept a house of boarders; and the conversation turning on the
subject of gratitude to our friends and benefactors, one of them spoke to the
following effect.
“Our satisfaction is certainly
complete; and it is not possible but that we should be truly thankful for it,
if we are not uncommonly prone to discontent and ingratitude. We enjoy not only
every circumstance of comfort, but every rational pleasure. All the benefits,
which society can afford, are within our reach; all that competence can yield
is ours; we have every thing that attends plentiful possessions, but the
trouble of taking care of them. We are indeed dependant, but it is only want of
due reflection that can make us uneasy. Our dependence exists without any of
those chains and fetters which too often render it more galling than the most
pinching necessities of life. When we see our benefactresses feel such true joy
in bestowing, it would be ingratitude even to wish not to receive it at their
hands. In accepting their bounty, we seem to confer an obligation, and do in
reality confer a benefit, by being the cause of so much refined pleasure to
them. This is the most exalted part of their bounty; their wealth gives us ease
and plenty; but it is their generous and noble way of bestowing that gives us
happiness. Nor does this alone constitute our felicity: it is still heightened
by comparing our present situation with the past. Light appears with additional
brightness, when set off by shade, as the recital of my misfortunes will
plainly evince.
“My father, though he outlived my
mother four years, died when I was but eighteen years old. As his fortune was
good, I was well educated, and besides being taught fashionable
accomplishments, was bred to a proper share of good housewifery. I had taken
care of my father’s family from the time of my mother’s death, her infirm state
of health having induced her to qualify me for that office, before the usual
age for such occupations. I was therefore able to govern a house, but had
little chance to have a house to govern; for at my father’s decease I learned,
that his whole estate was entailed on my brother. It had not been in his power
to charge it with any fortune for me, and as he had lived to the full of his
income, I was left entirely to my brother’s generosity. This piece of
information shocked me extremely, although I loved my brother well enough, to
be content to accept, as an obligation, a provision to which nature seemed to
give me a right; and had so good an opinion of him, that I did not doubt of his
providing handsomely for me, were he left to himself; but unfortunately for me,
he had married a young woman of low birth, though tolerable fortune, of whom he
was so fond, that I was sensible my dependence must be rather on her than him;
and I was not sufficiently acquainted with her disposition to know what
expectations to form in that respect. My brother, however, judged that the
concern I was under, for my situation, joined with the grief for the loss of my
father, must make my anxiety too heavy a weight on my spirits for the strongest
constitution to support; and therefore, gave me many kind assurances of his
generous intentions towards me, and took me home to his house, where I was well
received by my sister-in-law, to whom I endeavoured to render myself useful, as
well as agreeable.
In this view, I shewed a readiness
to assist her in the economy of her family, and the care of her children; no
unacceptable service, as her mean education had rendered her but ill qualified
for either. She knew not how to govern her servants with that composure of
temper, and steadiness of conduct, which commands respect; and therefore had
been troubled with their negligence or insolence: and as for her children, she
was capable of giving them but little instruction; working tolerably with her
needle being the utmost extent of her knowledge. As almost a continual
pregnancy gave her an excuse for indolence, I soon found my desire of serving
her would bring a burthensome office upon me; for she constituted me house-keeper,
and, soon after, nurse; and to shew me that my services were necessary, she
lessened the number of her maid servants, frequently saying, that, as hers was
an increasing family, she could not afford any other addition but that of
children. On the same principle of economy, finding I understood a good deal of
cookery, she changed her cook for a girl who could not perform the easiest
things without direction; and referred her to me for the requisite assistance,
introducing me into a third office, and that a very laborious one, as my
attendance in the kitchen could seldom be dispensed with for the greatest part
of the morning.
I was in no danger of falling into
idleness, my time being well filled up. My first business was to dress the
children, and give them their breakfasts. I was then to see the same prepared
for their parents and myself. The parts of housekeeper and cook would have
sufficiently employed the rest of the morning, but that of nurse was added to
it; for the three eldest children were generally with me the whole time, to my
great interruption, and their danger, as a kitchen is no safe place at that
age, and indeed, I was forced to be very careful, lest they should scald or
burn themselves, or some other accident of the like nature befal them. But
their mother complained they were too noisy for her, which, in some degree,
might be true, considering her frequent indisposition; but this was magnified
by her knowing no other means of assuming gentility, except that of appearing
sick, which led her to add much pretence to a little reality.