became almost
inseparable companions.
"George chose the
profession of a soldier. I had neither friends
or money to
procure him a
commission, and had wished him to embrace
a nautical life: but this was repugnant to his wishes, and I ceased
to urge him on the subject.
"The friendship subsisting between Lewis and my son was of such
a nature as gave him free
access to our family; and so specious
was his manner that we hesitated not to state to him all our
little difficulties in regard to George's future views.
He listened to us with attention, and offered to advance any sum
necessary for his first
setting out.
"I embraced the offer, and gave him my note for the
payment of it,
but he would not suffer me to mention any stipulated time,
as he said I might do it
whenever most
convenient to myself.
About this time my dear Lucy returned from school, and I soon
began to imagine Lewis looked at her with eyes of affection.
I gave my child a
caution to
beware of him, and to look on her mother
as her fe,,end. She was unaffectedly artless; and when, as I suspected,
Lewis made
professions of love, she confided in her parents,
and
assured us her heart was
perfectly unbiassed in his favour,
and she would chearfully
submit to our direction.
"I took an early opportunity of questioning him concerning
his intentions towards my child: he gave an equivocal answer,
and I
forbade him the house.
"The next day he sent and demanded
payment of his money.
It was not in my power to
comply with the demand. I requested three
days to
endeavour to raise it, determining in that time to mortgage
my half pay, and live on a small annuity which my wife possessed,
rather than be under an
obligation to so
worthless a man:
but this short time was not allowed me; for that evening, as I was
sitting down to supper, unsuspicious of danger, an officer entered,
and tore me from the embraces of my family.
"My wife had been for some time in a declining state of health:
ruin at once so
unexpected and
inevitable was a stroke she was not
prepared to bear, and I saw her faint into the arms of our servant,
as I left my own
habitation for the comfortless walls of a prison.
My poor Lucy, distracted with her fears for us both, sunk on the floor
and
endeavoured to
detain me by her
feeble efforts, but in vain;
they forced open her arms; she shrieked, and fell prostrate.
But
pardon me. The horrors of that night unman me.
I cannot proceed."
He rose from his seat, and walked several times across the room:
at length, attaining more
composure, he cried--"What a mere
infant I am! Why, Sir, I never felt thus in the day of battle."
"No," said Temple; "but the truly brave soul is tremblingly alive
to the feelings of humanity."
"True," replied the old man, (something like
satisfaction darting
across his features) "and
painful as these feelings are, I would not
exchange them for that torpor which the stoic mistakes for philosophy.
How many
exquisite delights should I have passed by unnoticed,
but for these keen sensations, this quick sense of happiness or misery?
Then let us, my friend, take the cup of life as it is presented to us,
tempered by the hand of a wise Providence; be
thankful for the good,
be patient under the evil, and
presume not to enquire why
the latter predominates."
"This is true philosophy," said Temple.
"'Tis the only way to
reconcile ourselves to the cross events of life,"
replied he. "But I forget myself. I will not longer
intrude on
your
patience, but proceed in my
melancholy tale.
"The very evening that I was taken to prison, my son arrived
from Ireland, where he had been some time with his
regiment.