Ensign Bloomington was deaf to all overtures of peace: he was rejoiced to escape from this virago; and, as we presume that none of our readers are much interested in her fate, we shall leave her to wear the willow, without following her history farther.

Let us return to Mr. Barlow, whom we left looking over Mr. Folingsby's marriage settlements. When he had seen that they were rightly drawn, he sent Frank with them to Folingsby-hall.

Mr. Folingsby was alone when Frank arrived. "Sit down, if you please, sir," said he. "Though I have never had the pleasure of seeing you before, your name is well known to me. You are a brother of f.a.n.n.y Frankland's. She is a charming and excellent young woman! You have reason to be proud of your sister, and I have reason to be obliged to her."

He then adverted to what had formerly pa.s.sed between them at Mrs. Hungerford's; and concluded by saying it would give him real satisfaction to do any service to him or his family. "Speak, and tell me what I can do for you."

Frank looked down, and was silent; for he thought Mr. Folingsby must recollect the injustice that he, or his agent, had shown in turning old Frankland out of his farm. He was too proud to ask favours, where he felt he had a claim to justice.

In fact, Mr. Folingsby had, as he said, "left every thing to his agent;"

and so little did he know either of the affairs of his tenants, their persons, or even their names, that he had not at this moment the slightest idea that Frank was the son of one of the oldest and the best of them. He did not know that old Frankland had been reduced to take refuge in an almshouse, in consequence of his agent's injustice.

Surprised by Frank's cold silence, he questioned him more closely, and it was with astonishment and shame that he heard the truth.

"Good heavens!" cried he, "has my negligence been the cause of all this misery to your father--to the father of f.a.n.n.y Frankland? I remember, now that you recall it to my mind, something of an old man, with fine grey hair, coming to speak to me about some business, just as I was setting off for Ascot races. Was that your father? I recollect I told him I was in a great hurry; and that Mr. Deal, my agent, would certainly do him justice. In this I was grossly mistaken; and I have suffered severely for the confidence I had in that fellow. Thank G.o.d, I shall now have my affairs in my own hands. I am determined to look into them immediately.

My head is no longer full of horses, and gigs, and curricles. There is a time for every thing: my giddy days are over. I only wish that my thoughtlessness had never hurt any one but myself.

"All I now can do," continued Mr. Folingsby, "is to make amends, as fast as possible, for the past. To begin with your father: most fortunately, I have the means in my power. His farm is come back into my hands; and it shall, to-morrow, be restored to him. Old Bettesworth was with me scarcely an hour ago, to surrender the farm, on which there is a prodigious arrear of rent; but I understand that he has built a good house on the farm; and I am extremely glad of it, for your father's sake. Tell him it shall be his. Tell him I am ready, I am eager, to put him in possession of it; and to repair the injustice I have done, or which, at least, I have permitted to be done, in my name."

Frank was so overjoyed that he could scarcely utter one word of thanks.

In his way home he called at Mrs. Hungerford's, to tell the good news to his sister f.a.n.n.y. This was the eve of their father's birthday; and they agreed to meet at the almshouse in the morning.

The happy morning came. Old Frankland was busy in his little garden, when he heard the voices of his children, who were coming towards him.

"f.a.n.n.y! Patty! James! Frank! Welcome, my children! Welcome! I knew you would be so kind as to come to see your old father on this day; so I was picking some of my currants for you, to make you as welcome as I can.

But I wonder you are not ashamed to come to see me in an almshouse. Such gay lads and la.s.ses! I well know I have reason to be proud of you all.

Why, I think, I never saw you, one and all, look so well in my whole life!"

"Perhaps, father," said Frank, "because you never saw us, one and all, so happy! Will you sit down, dear father, here in your arbour; and we will all sit upon the gra.s.s, at your feet, and each tell you stories, and all the good news."

"My children," said he, "do what you will with me! It makes my old heart swim with joy to see you all again around me looking so happy."

The father sat down in his arbour, and his children placed themselves at his feet. First his daughter Patty spoke; and then f.a.n.n.y; then James; and at last Frank. When they had all told their little histories, they offered to their father in one purse their common riches: the rewards of their own good conduct.

"My beloved children!" said Frankland, overpowered with his tears, "this is too much joy for me! this is the happiest moment of my life! None but the father of such children can know what I feel! Your success in the world delights me ten times the more, because I know it is all owing to yourselves."

"Oh! no, dear father!" cried they with one accord; "no, dear, dear father, our success is all owing to you! Every thing we have is owing to you; to the care you took of us, from our infancy upward. If you had not watched for our welfare, and taught us so well, we should not now all be so happy!--Poor Bettesworth!"

Here they were interrupted by Hannah, the faithful maid-servant, who had always lived with old Frankland. She came running down the garden so fast, that, when she reached the arbour, she was so much out of breath she could not speak. "Dear heart! G.o.d bless you all!" cried she, as soon as she recovered breath. "But it is no time to be sitting here. Come in, sir, for mercy's sake," said she, addressing herself to her old master.

"Come in to be ready; come in all of you to be ready!" "Ready! ready for what?"

"Oh! ready for fine things! Fine doings! Only come in, and I'll tell you as we go along. How I have torn all my hand with this gooseberry-bush!

But no matter for that. So then you have not heard a word of what is going on? No, how could you? And you did not miss me, when you first came into the house?"

"Forgive us for that, good Hannah: we were in such a hurry to see my father, we thought of nothing and n.o.body else."

"Very natural. Well, Miss f.a.n.n.y, I've been up at the great house, with your lady, Mrs. Hungerford. A better lady cannot be! Do you know she sent for me, on purpose to speak to me; and I know things that you are not to know yet. But this much I may tell you, there's a carriage coming here, to carry my master away to his new house; and there's horses, and side-saddles beside, for you, and you, and you, and I. And Mrs.

Hungerford is coming in her own coach; and young Mr. Folingsby is coming in his carriage; and Mr. Barlow in Mr. Jos. Crumpe's carriage; and Mr.

Cleghorn, and his pretty daughter, in the gig; and--and--and heaps of carriages besides! friends of Mrs. Hungerford: and there's such crowds gathering in the streets; and I'm going on to get breakfast."

"Oh! my dear father," cried Frank, "make haste, and take off this badge-coat before they come! We have brought proper clothes for you."

Frank pulled off the badge-coat, as he called it, and flung it from him, saying, "My father shall never wear you more."

f.a.n.n.y had just tied on her father's clean neckcloth, and Patty had smoothed his reverend grey locks, when the sound of the carriages was heard. All that Hannah had told them was true. Mrs. Hungerford had engaged all her friends, and all who were acquainted with the good conduct of the Franklands, to attend her on this joyful occasion.

"Triumphal cavalcades and processions," said she, "are in general foolish things--mere gratifications of vanity; but this is not in honour of vanity, but in honour of virtue. We shall do good in the country, by showing that we respect and admire it, in whatever station it is to be found. Here is a whole family who have conducted themselves uncommonly well; who have exerted themselves to relieve their aged father from a situation to which he was reduced without any fault or imprudence of his own. Their exertions have succeeded. Let us give them, what they will value more than money, SYMPATHY."

Convinced or persuaded by what Mrs. Hungerford said, all her friends and acquaintance attended her this morning to the almshouse. Crowds of people followed; and old Frankland was carried in triumph by his children to his new habitation.

The happy father lived many years to enjoy the increasing prosperity of his family. {Footnote: It may be necessary to inform some readers, that Patty and f.a.n.n.y were soon united to their lovers; that James, with Mr.

Cleghorn's consent, married Miss Cleghorn; and that Frank did not become an old bachelor: he married an amiable girl, who was ten times prettier than Jilting Jessy, and of whom he was twenty times as fond. Those who wish to know the history of all the wedding-clothes of the parties may have their curiosity gratified by directing a line of inquiry, post-paid, to the editor hereof.}

May every good father have as grateful children!

_May, 1801_.

THE GRATEFUL NEGRO.

In the island of Jamaica there lived two planters, whose methods of managing their slaves were as different as possible. Mr. Jefferies considered the negroes as an inferior species, incapable of grat.i.tude, disposed to treachery, and to be roused from their natural indolence only by force; he treated his slaves, or rather suffered his overseer to treat them, with the greatest severity.

Jefferies was not a man of a cruel, but of a thoughtless and extravagant temper. He was of such a sanguine disposition, that he always calculated upon having a fine season, and fine crops on his plantation; and never had the prudence to make allowance for unfortunate accidents: he required, as he said, from his overseer produce and not excuses.

Durant, the overseer, did not scruple to use the most cruel and barbarous methods of forcing the slaves to exertions beyond their strength. {Footnote: THE NEGRO SLAVES--a fine drama, by Kotzebue. It is to be hoped that such horrible instances of cruelty are not now to be found in nature. Bryan Edwards, in his History of Jamaica, says that most of the planters are humane; but he allows that some facts can be cited in contradiction of this a.s.sertion.} Complaints of his brutality, from time to time, reached his master's ears; but though Mr. Jefferies was moved to momentary compa.s.sion, he shut his heart against conviction: he hurried away to the jovial banquet, and drowned all painful reflections in wine.

He was this year much in debt; and, therefore, being more than usually anxious about his crop, he pressed his overseer to exert himself to the utmost.

The wretched slaves upon his plantation thought themselves still more unfortunate when they compared their condition with that of the negroes on the estate of Mr. Edwards. This gentleman treated his slaves with all possible humanity and kindness. He wished that there was no such thing as slavery in the world, but he was convinced, by the arguments of those who have the best means of obtaining information, that the sudden emanc.i.p.ation of the negroes would rather increase than diminish their miseries. His benevolence, therefore, confined itself within the bounds of reason. He adopted those plans for the amelioration of the state of the slaves which appeared to him the most likely to succeed without producing any violent agitation or revolution. {Footnote: History of the West Indies, from which these ideas are adopted--not stolen.} For instance, his negroes had reasonable and fixed daily tasks; and when these were finished, they were permitted to employ their time for their own advantage or amus.e.m.e.nt. If they chose to employ themselves longer for their master, they were paid regular wages for their extra work.

This reward, for as such it was considered, operated most powerfully upon the slaves. Those who are animated by hope can perform what would seem impossibilities to those who are under the depressing influence of fear. The wages which Mr. Edwards promised, he took care to see punctually paid.

He had an excellent overseer, of the name of Abraham Bayley, a man of a mild but steady temper, who was attached not only to his master's interests but to his virtues; and who, therefore, was more intent upon seconding his humane views than upon squeezing from the labour of the negroes the utmost produce. Each negro had, near his cottage, a portion of land, called his provision-ground; and one day in the week was allowed for its cultivation.

It is common in Jamaica for the slaves to have provision-grounds, which they cultivate for their own advantage; but it too often happens, that, when a good negro has successfully improved his little spot of ground, when he has built himself a house, and begins to enjoy the fruits of his industry, his acquired property is seized upon by the sheriff's officer for the payment of his master's debts; he is forcibly separated from his wife and children, dragged to public auction, purchased by a stranger, and perhaps sent to terminate his miserable existence in the mines of Mexico; excluded for ever from the light of heaven; and all this without any crime or imprudence on his part, real or pretended. He is punished because his master is unfortunate!

To this barbarous injustice the negroes on Mr. Edwards' plantation were never exposed. He never exceeded his income; he engaged in no wild speculations; he contracted no debts; and his slaves, therefore, were in no danger of being seized by a sheriff's officer: their property was secured to them by the prudence as well as by the generosity of their master.

One morning, as Mr. Edwards was walking in that part of his plantation which joined to Mr. Jefferies' estate, he thought he heard the voice of distress at some distance. The lamentations grew louder and louder as he approached a cottage, which stood upon the borders of Jefferies'

plantation.

This cottage belonged to a slave of the name of Caesar, the best negro in Mr. Jefferies' possession. Such had been his industry and exertion, that, notwithstanding the severe tasks imposed by Durant, the overseer, Caesar found means to cultivate his provision-ground to a degree of perfection no where else to be seen on this estate. Mr. Edwards had often admired this poor fellow's industry, and now hastened to inquire what misfortune had befallen him.

When he came to the cottage, he found Caesar standing with his arms folded, and his eyes fixed upon the ground. A young and beautiful female negro was weeping bitterly, as she knelt at the feet of Durant, the overseer, who, regarding her with a sullen aspect, repeated, "He must go. I tell you, woman, he must go. What signifies all this nonsense?"

At the sight of Mr. Edwards, the overseer's countenance suddenly changed, and a.s.sumed an air of obsequious civility. The poor woman retired to the farther corner of the cottage, and continued to weep.

Caesar never moved. "Nothing is the matter, sir," said Durant, "but that Caesar is going to be sold. That is what the woman is crying for. They were to be married; but we'll find Clara another husband, I tell her; and she'll get the better of her grief, you know, sir, as I tell her, in time." "Never! never!" said Clara.