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[902 There appeared to be three stocking- faudable? If I could have consented to makers in Birmingham. Eruns, the old tell one lie to my uncle, I should not only Quaker, yet in being, was the principal. bave saved my back, my character, and I asked him, with great humility, for em- my property, but also prevented about ploy? “ You are an apprentice.” “Sir, ten lies which I was obliged to tell in the I am not, but am come with the recom- course of the following week. But that mendation of your friend, Mr. Such-a- Supreme Being, who directs immensity, one, of Walsall.” “Go about your whether he judges with an angry eye acbusiness, I tell you, you are a run-away cording to some Christians, or with a 'prentice." I retreated, sincerely wish- benigo one, according to others, will ever ing I had business to go about. distinguish between an act of necessity
I waiteil upon Holmes, in Dale-end; and an act of choice. at that moment a customer entering, he It was now about seven in the even. gave me a penny to get rid of me. ing, Tuesday, July 14, 1741. I sat to
The third was Francis Grace, at the rest upon the north side of the Old Cross gateway, entering New-street. This near Philip-street; the poorest of all the man was a native of Derby, and knew poor belonging to that great parish, of my family. Fourteen years after, he be- which, twenty-seven years after, I should stowed upon me a valuable wife, his be overseer. I sat under that roof, a piece; and sixteen years after, he died, silent oppressed object, where, thirtyleaving me in possession of his premises one years after, I should sit to determine and fortune, paying some legacies. differences between man and man. Why
I made the same request to Mr. Grace did not some kind agent comfort me with that I had done to others, and with the the distant prospect? same effect. He asked after his brother About ten yards from me, near the at Derby. I answered readily, as if I corner of Philip-street, I perceived two knew. One lie often produces a second. men in aprons eye me with some attenHe examined me closely; and though a tion. They approached neur. man of no shining talents, quickly set me seem,” says one, “by your melancholy fast. I was obliged to tell three or four situation, and dusty shoes, a forlord lies to patch up a lame tale, which I traveller, without money, and without plainly saw would hardly pass.
friends." I assured him it was exactly I appeared a trembling stranger in my case. "If you choose to accept of that house, over which, sixteen years af- a pint of ale, it is at your service. I ter, I should preside. Istood like a de- know what it is myself to be a distressed jected culprit by that counter, upon traveller.” “I shall receive any favour which, thirty-eight years after, I should with thankfulness." record the story. I thought, though bis They took me to the Bell in Philipname was Grace, bis heart was rugged; street, and gave me what bread, cheese, and I left the shop with this severe re- and beer, I chose. They also procured flection, that I had told several lies, and a lodging for me in the neiglıbourbood, without the least advantage. I am sorry where I slept for three half-pence. to digress, but must beg leave to break I did not meet with this treatment the thread of my narrative while I make twenty-nine years after, at Market Bostwo short remarks.
worth, though I appeared rather like a I acquired a high character for honesty, gentleman. The inhabitants set their by stealing two shillings! Not altogether dogs at me merely because I was a stranbecause I tooktwo out of ten, but because ger. Surrounded with impassable roads, I left the other eight. A thief is seldom no intercourse with man to humanize known to leave part of his booty. If the mind, no commerce to smooth their bad had money, I should not have taken rugged manners, they continue the boors any; and, if I had found none, I should of nature. not have run away.
The reader will Wednesday, July 15. I could not think that two shillings was a very mo- prevail with myself to leave Birmingham, derate sum to carry me to Ireland. the seat of civility ; but was determined
The other is, whether lying is not to endeavour to forget my misfortunes,
Life of William Hutton.
and myself, for one day, and take a inform him ingenuously. I replied with nearer view of this happy abode of the tears that I was; and that an unhappy suniling arts.
difference with my uncle was the cause Thursday 16. I arrived early in the of my leaving his service. day at Coventry, but could get no pros He said, if I would set out on my repect of employment. The streets seem- turn in the morning, I should be weled narrow, ill paved; the Cross, a beau- come to a bed that night. I told him tiful little piece of architecture, but com- that I had no objection to the service of posed of wretched materials. The city my uncle, but that I could not subinit to was populous; the houses had a gloomy any punishment ; and if I were not reair of antiquity; the upper story project- ceived upon equitable terms, I would ing over the lower, designed, no doubt, immediately return to my own liberty. by the architect, to answer two valuable He asked if I had any money? I anpurposes ; those of shooting off the wet, swered “ Enough to carry me home." and shaking bands out of the garret win- He was amazed, and threw out hints of dows. But he forgot three evils arising crimination. I assured him he might from this improvement of art; the stag- rest satisfied upon that head, for I had nation of air, the dark rooms, and the brought two shillings from Nottingham. dirty streets.
He exclaimed with emotion, “ Two shilI slept at the Star Inn, not as a cham- lings !” This confirmed his suspicions. ber guest, but a hay-chamber one. Wrapped in my own innocence, I did
Friday 17. I reached Nuo-Eaton, not think my honesty worth vindicating; and found I had again entered the domi- therefore, did not throw away one argunions of sleep. That active spirit which ment upon it. Truth is persuasive, and marks the commercial race, did not ex- will often make its way to the heart, in ist here. The inhabitants seemed to its native simplicity, better than a varcreep along, as if afraid the street should nished lie. be seen empty.
However, they had Extreme frugality especially in the sense enough to ring the word 'prentice prospect of distress, composes a part of in my ears, which I not only denied, but my character. used every figure in rhetoric I was mas Saturday, the 18th, I thanked my ter of, to establishi my argument; yet friend Millward for his kindness, receivwas not able to persuade them out of ed nothing for my work, nor he for his their penetration. They still called me civility, and we parted the friends of an a boy. I thought it hard to perish be- hour. At noon I saw Ashby-de-lacause I could not convince people I was
Zouch. It was market-day.
I had a man. I left the place without a smile, eight-pence remaining of my two shiland, without a dinner : perhaps it is not lings. My reader will ask, with Millvery apt to produce either. I arrived at ward, “ How I lived ?" As he could Hinckley about four in the afternoon. not. Moralists say, “ Keep desire low, The first question usually put was, and nature is satisfied with little." A “ Where do you come from?” My turnip-field has supplied the place of a constant answer was, “ Derby.” There cook's shop; a spring, that of a publicis a countryman of yours," said the per- house ; and, while at Birmingham, I son,“ in such a street his name is Mill- knew by repeated experience, that cherward.” Tapplied, and found I had been ries were a half-penny a pound. a neighbour 10 bis family. He also I arrived at Derby at nine in the eveknew something of mine. He set up the ning. My father gladly received me,and same objection that others had done, and dropped a tear for my misfortunes. We I made the same successful reply. agreed that he should send for my uncle
He set me to work till night, about early in the morning, who would probatwo hours, in which time I earned two- bly be with us by four in the evening. pence. He then asked me into the Sunday 19. My father told me that house, entered into conversation with I could not have appeared before him in me, told me he was certain I was a run- a more disadvantageous light, if I had away apprrutice, and begged I would said I was out of a jail : that he should
[906 think of this disagreeable circumstance ev The remainder of the evening was ery future day of his life,and that I must spent agreeably ; and, in the course of allow him to reprove me before my uncle, it, my uncle said, that if my father would
As the time approached, he seemed make up one half of my loss, he would greatly cast down, and invited two of my make up the other. My father received uncle's old friends to step in, and soften the proposal joyfully, and they ratified matters between us. But I considered the agreement by a second shake of the that my uncle was naturally of a good hand. But, I am sorry to observe, it temper, passion excepted that I had was thought of no more by either. I left him suing for peace ; that I had re- considered it peculiarly bard, that the turped a volunteer, which carried the promise to punish me was remembered, idea of repentance ; that he must be con- but the promise to reward me forgotten. scious he had injured me ; that he con This unhappy ramble damped my sidered my service as a treasure, which rising spirit. I could not forbear vierhe had been deprived of, and which, be- ing myself in the light of a fugitive. It ing found, he would rejoice at, just in sunk me in the eye of my acquaintance, proportion as he had grieved at the loss, and I did not recover my former balance
The two friends forgot to come, for two years. It also ruined me in About nine my uncle entered, and shook point of dress, for I was not able to rehands with my father, for the two broth- assume my former appearance for five ers were fond of each other. While years. It ran me in debt, out of which their hands were united, my uncle turned I have never been to this day. Nov. to me, with a look of benignity, superfi- 21, 1799. cially covered with anger, and said, “ Are
Concluded is our next. not you to blame ?" I was silent.
LEGENDS OF LAMPIDOSA.*
From the European Magazine.
ing herself into a haughtier attitude, you NO To one ever saw a summer evening may find ample scope for your experi
in Provence without pleasure ; but ments in a child educated we know not a father only can judge of the delight it where or how! We must atone for the brings when its mild and beautiful hour folly of our son's rast, marriage, by qualis appointed for the arrival of a darling ifying his daughter for a splendid enchild. The Baron de Salency was trance into life. Sprightly wit, talents for seated in such an hour under the light exhibition, and an imposing demeanor, colonnade which fronted his chateau, are the stage-effect or decoration of a watching every swell of the superb riv- woman's virtue. Like the trampolineer before him, and imagining he heard board our opera-dancers use, none rise the oars of the boatmen sent to bring his high without it." A boat, whose proonly grand-daughter to her paternal gress had been concealed by the shrubby home.
“ How much delight I expect edges of the river, now touched the landfrom Henrielle's society!” he said, as the ing-place, and a young person in deep Baroness leaned on his chair—"this love- mourning approached the colonnade, ly hour has always appeared to me the alone and trembling. The Baron and richest picture of a kind father's old age. Baroness met her with a gracious air of Henrieile is young, and has been instruc. encouragement ; but the timid stranger ted to love us : we shall easily shape her only kissed their hands in tears and silence. mind according to our wishes ; and now “ Where," said her grandmother, " is the at least, in the second generation of our letter promised by our son ?"—Heorielle offspring, we have had experience enough cast down her eyes weeping, and answerto blend what is best in our contrary ed, after long hesitation, " Ah, madam! opinions."
all islost--the letter--the jewels—all that “Certainly,” replied the Baroness, rais- my father gave me as testimonials in my * Continued from page 794.
favour were stoleo last night.—Urgent
Legends of Lampidosa. - The Parisian.
inquiries followed this confession, but she tains my father's portrait, and documents could only inform her hearers that she sufficient, perhaps, to have supported an had travelled from Paris under the escort imposture." —At the sight of this imporof a notary and a female servant long em- tant casket in her rival's hand, the preployed by her father. Both had accom- tended Henrielle gave a cry of agony, panied her to Arles, where she slept, ex- and fainted. The Baroness led her ac. pecting their attendance till she reached koowledged grand-daughter to another the Chateau de Salency; and both de- apartment; her husband followed after parted during the night with the small a short interval, and the remainder of the ivory box which contained her treasure. evening was devoted to inquiries which The Baron beard this strange narrative their Henrielle answered with the prompwithout comment; and his wife, coldly titude of truth and the grace of polished receding a few steps, took an exact and suavity. When they had retired to their stern survey of her supposed grand- own apartment, the Baroness inquired if daughter. But the ominous pause was he had consigned the intruder to the corinterrupted by the arrival of a cabriole, rectional police—“ No, madam; I have from whence a lovely young woman a fitter tribunal, I think, in my own sprang, and threw berself at the Baroness beart.”—“ Can you doubt the baseness de Salency's feet.“ From whom do I of a stratagem so obvious and ill-sustainreceive this gracious homage ?" said the ed ?"_“I doubt nothing, Baroness, so Baronne, smiling on her beautiful visitor, often as the accuracy of human judgment. —“From your grand-daughter, Henrielle If this unhappy stranger bas been swayde Salency !- I see my father in your ed by the criminal ambition and authori. countenance, and my homage here can ty of her mother, let us ascribe the heavinever be misplaced " Then drawing est portion of her crime to her instructor; a sealed letter from her bosom, she pre- if she has been the pupil of fraud and arsented it to the Baron with an exquisite arice, let us try the influence of generous grace which ensured the kindness it so- tuition.”—“ Under my roof!" retorted licited. He saw the band-writing of a the Baroness, with a glance of scorn :beloved son, the most powerful testimo- her husband answered by leading her tonial in favour of the bearer, whose fea- wards an exquisite piece of sculpture reptures perfectly resembled his. She had resenting the celebrated Grecian mother the same brilliant jet-black eyes, the same recalling her truant child from the edge full half-opening lips covered with the of a precipice by displaying her bountiful richest verniillion, and a smile expressing bosom.“ This Greek fable, Adelaide, the very spirit of innocence. The Baron is memorable, because it teaches us how extended his arms to welcome the grand- to retriere a wanderer-not by frowns, child his heart acknowledged, forgetting but by the milk of human kindness. And at that instant the forloro stranger he had the Shakspeare of English divines says already received ; but his wife, with a truly—the young tendrils and early sneer which seemed to commend her own blossoms of the mind hardly bear a superior sagacity, exclaimed—“Do you breath, but when age has hardened them know this impostor, Mademoiselle DeSa- into a stem, they may meet a storm unleocy ?"--As if that title had belonged to broken.' He spoke of love, but he might her, the first claimant advanced to speak, have said this of virtue. We will relooked earnestly at her opponent, and member it; and, since there are gentle covered her face. The second Henrielle feelings in the supposed impostor, they laid her hands on her grandfather, and, shall be fostered by kindness. The cloak throwing back the rich ringlets which sha- of fraud is aptest to fall off when the ded her large bright eyes, whispered, heart is warmed. “Do not overwhelm her with reproaches. “ It is torn away already!" interrupShe is the daughter of an artful woman ted the Baroness. “ The letter—the caswbo nursed me in my childhood, and ket—the documents it contained-all or knew all my mother's family concerns, any one of these was sufficient to detect She left me suddenly on the road from her. And Henrielle's beautiful resemParis, but not before she had twice at- blance to her father-" _“We shall tempted to steal this casket, which con- sue,” rejoined M. de Salency,“ how far
[910 it extends. This incident will acquaint bably expected. Henrielle exclaimed, us with her heart ; and if it knows how with a pleading smile, “ I shall be charinto pity error, it is not capable of many." ed to retain my foster-mother's daughter -The Baronne took refuge in sleep, but near me. She often spoke of her Henher husband remained in uneasy asusings riana, and the Baron will allow me to on the peril of deciding between the two give you that name, tho'it resembles mine claimants. His son, the most infallible too early.”—“Certainly I consent," he arbiter, was no longer in France, and answered, “ but my plan must be chanmany months might elapse before he ged to suit it. She sball be retained as could answer an appeal
, even if the chan- your companion, not your soubrette ; for ces of war permitted him to receive it. no name that resembles my son's ought Henry de Salency, the father of Henrielle, to be connected with ignominy." had been a husband and a widower un- Madaine de Salency expressed her opinknown to his parents, and had not ven. ion of this change by indignant frowns, tur-d to recommend his only daughter to and in private by severe expostulations. their care till his departure on a distant -Her husband only answered drily, and daugerous expedition had softened “ Recollect, we have not yet identified the pride of his mother, and lert his father our grand-daughter."-But the Baroness desolate. Tender to whatever claimed acted as if the identity was beyond disattioity with this beloved soo, the Baron pute, and Paris was soon employed in determined that even the soi-disant lleo- praising the splendid debût of the heiress. rielle should not be abandoned to pover- Her wit, her graces, and her accomplishty and shame. None of his domestics ments, were the theme of its highest cirknew with what pretensions she had arri- cles, and certainly vouched for the eleved, and she might be retained among gant education she professed to have rethem as an attendant on his acknowledged ceived from her mother, of whom she of grand-daughter ; an office sutficiently ten spoke with lavish praise. But Henabject to punish her presumption, yet in- riana, when questioned respecting her's, dulgent enough to encourage reformation, only answered, “ I never wish to speak In the morning this decree was announ- of my mother--She had so many virtues ced. The offender heard it with a start which I never understood till now, so of surprise, followed by a glow per- many cares for me that I might have rehaps of gratitude, at a sentence milder paid better--my deepest grief is to rethan the public dismission she had pro- member her.”
To be continued.
COVENT GARDEN, JUNE 5, 1817. Robbers twice: if we have seen Mrs. Siddons
beth drew immense crowds to every part impression is stamped there forever, and any of the house. We should suppose that more after-experiments and critical inquiries only than half the number of persons were compels serve to fritter away and tamper with the saled to return without gaining admittance. We credness of the early recollection. We see succeeded in gaining a seat in one of the back- into the details of the character, its minute boxes, and saw this wonderful performance at excellencies or defects, but the great masses, a distance, and consequently at a disadvan- the gigantic proportions, are in some degree tage. Though the distance of place is a disad- lost upon us by custom and familiarity. It is vantage to a performance like Mrs. Siddons's the first blow that staggers us; by gaining Lady Macbeth, we question whether the dis time we recover our self-possession. Mrs. Sidtance of time at which we have formerly seen dons's Lady Macbeth is little less appalling in it is any. It is nearly twenty years since we its effects than the apparition of a preternatural first saw ber in this character, and certainly the being, bat if we were accustomed to see a preimpression which we have still left on our ternatural being constantly, our astonishment minds from that first exhibition, is stronger would, by degrees diminish. We do not know than the one we now received. The sublimity whether it is owing to the cause here stated or of Mrs. Siddons's acting is such, that the first to a falling off in Mrs. Siddons's acting, bgt impulse wbich it gives to the mind can never we certainly thought her performance infewear out, and we doubt whether this original rior to what it used to be." She speaks too and paramount impression is not weakened, slow, and her manner has not that decided, rather than strengthened, by subsequent im- sweeping majesty, which a ed to characterize pressions. We do not read the tragedy of the her as the Muse of Tragedy berself. Some