woman, a farmer's widow, who lived opposite to the back gates, to whose house also I frequently made short excursions, and who sometimes treated me with sour cream and brown sugar, and such other dainties. During one of these visits, I was missed from the yard by my mother, who had come thither to seek me. "Where have you been," was the distressing inquiry, when I returned. "Only in the yard, and at the back gate."-" Yes, you have been further, for I went thither to seek you, and you were not there: I did not think that you would have endeavoured to deceive me." I then confessed the whole truth; but the shame, confusion, and remorse of the culprit were inexpressible; never can I forget the painful emotions: often did I repeat to myself, "all had been well if it had not been for that unfortunate word only." My father was from home, which I considered as very fortunate, hoping that he would not hear of my disgrace. I was to have been indulged that day, by going to a christening in the village. "You cannot go to the christening," said my mother. How terrible was the decision! the arrangements were all made, the company invited, and I was to have nursed the baby; and what if the reason should ever be known, why I was not permitted to be of the party? A message was sent that I could not go: deputation after deputation of intreaty arrived from various quarters, for I was a great favourite in the village, and several little girls had expressed extreme delight in the thoughts of meeting me; but my mother was firm and inflexible

She

was certainly right as a general rule, yet as it was a first offence, and considering my particular temper, she might safely have relaxed, for I should not have been guilty of the same fault again; this however she did not know, and she determined, if it could be done, to strike at first at the root of the evil. A circumstance, she said, had occurred, which made it impossible for her to yield to their wishes; kindly, however, she did not reveal that circumstance, which was as wise as it was kind, for thus my honour was saved. Had she published my disgrace, far from being deterred, I might perhaps have considered myself as having no longer a character to lose; I should have thought that she had acted cruelly, and have felt resentment: whereas I was now convinced that it was my good only that she consulted, and not any malignant, capricious humour of her

own.

I mention these circumstances merely as instances, how very early children learn to pass a silent judgment on the treatment they meet with, and of what importance it is in education, that parents and preceptors should attend to this, and never suffer punishment to exceed, what the case may seem to justify, to the mind of the delinquent.

D 3

CHAPTER 5.

The Author sent to school....First reception by her grandmother....Sketch of the old lady's character; the evident result of peculiar circumstances, and early strong associations....Infectious fever at Catterick....Fortitude of the Author's parents....Their preservation....Beneficial effects of a father's praise....Contrary effects of unreasonable severity.

IN June, 1754, when I was ten years of age, I was sent to York for the purpose of attending the dancing school, and of learning the sort of ornamental needle-work then in fashion. I was boarded with a person, who had two nieces, whom I accompanied to the different schools for these purposes, and who was well-meaning, but illiterate, vulgar, and of an uncontrolled temper. It was the first time I had ever been from home with strangers; and the contrast between her manners and those of my old friend Mrs. Maurice, although I did not exactly know the reason, impressed my mind very painfully. I consoled myself, however, with the frequent visits I should doubtless make to my maternal grandmother, who had lately resigned the family mansion to her son, just returned from the continent; and with her daughters, my two maiden aunts, had come to reside in this city. I had never seen her, but I had pleased myself with anticipating how well I would behave, and how delighted she would be to receive me. She was a very stately old lady, between seventy and eighty years of age, a complete aristocrat of the last century. When I

entered the room, she was sitting on a great chair as on a little throne, her two daughters happening to be standing near her, as if they were ladies in waiting. When she saw me, not a muscle of her face relaxed. "Is this her?" she haughtily enquired; “Well child, how do your father and your mother do?" I was probably restrained at the moment by fear, from bursting into tears, but when I returned to my lodging, excessive disappointment and sorrow brought on a violent head-ach. York, I told Mrs. D. (the person with whom I boarded,) did not agree with me, and that I must return home immediately. My elder aunt was sent for, who being both kind and judicious, succeeded perfectly in composing my spirits. My grandmother, she said, would love me when we were better acquainted, and in the meantime, I should be disgraced for ever, if I returned home, without accomplishing the purposes for which I had been sent. This last argument was decisive, and although I continued silently to count days and weeks, I never sorrowed very deeply any more.

This old lady had but two criterions for estimating character-rank, and beauty she did not consider the daughter of a country clergyman as possessing the one, and the small-pox had deprived me of all pretentions to the other. She was herself a woman of rank; and her family had risen, from the circumstances of the times, into great consideration. Sir Patience Warde, her paternal uncle, was the intimate friend of the virtuous Lord Russel, who was beheaded in the

reign of the second Charles, and he had himself, narrowly escaped the like fate. He was afterwards one of those who had the happiness of conducting king William to this kingdom; and my grandmother, then a girl, having money given her on that occasion, to throw among the populace in London, considered herself as entitled to be a partaker in her uncle's triumphs. With what majesty and importance, when I had afterwards. obtained a small portion of favour, by listening to her stories, and flying to obey her commands, did she detail to me these histories! adding many an anecdote of the exemplary conduct of queen Mary, of the fortitude of lady Rachael Russel, of the disinterested patriotism of her virtuous lord, and of the piety of Archbishop Tillotson, contrasting with these, the infamous character of the licentious Charles, and his equally licentious and still more tyrannical and bigotted brother. She had the offer, she said, of being one of queen Mary's maids of honour :— I durst not ask her why she refused, but I remember thinking that I would not have done so. She died the following year.

The piety, fortitude, and benevolence of my father and mother, were this spring and summer, put to a severe trial, and it was likewise a season of great expence to them. A typhus fever was brought into the village of Catterick, by a poor traveller, to whom it proved fatal. The old woman at whose house he lodged, caught it first and died; and it afterwards spread rapidly through the neighbouring cottages. A general