CHAP. XV.

All Mr. Burchell's villany at once detected-the folly of being over-wise.

THAT evening, and part of the following day, was employed in fruitless attempts to discover our enemies: scarce a family in the neighbourhood but incurred our suspicions, and each of us had reasons for our opinion best known to ourselves. As we were in this perplexity, one of our little boys, -who had been playing abroad, brought in a lettercase, which he found on the greeu. It was quickly known to belong to Mr. Burchell, with whom it had been seen; and, upon examination, contained some hints upon different subjects; but what particularly engaged our attention, was a sealed note, superscribed, 'The copy of a letter to be sent to the ladies at Thornhill Castle.' It instantly occurred, that he was the base informer; and we deliberated, whether the note should not be broke open. I was against it; but Sophia, who said she was sure that of all men he would be the last to be guilty of so much baseness, insisted upon its being read. In this she was seconded by the rest of the family; and, at their joint solicitation, I read as follows:

'Ladies,

The bearer will sufficiently satisfy you as to the person from whom this comes: one at least the friend of innocence, and ready to prevent its being seduced. I am informed for a truth, that you have some in. tention of bringing two young ladies to town, whom I have some knowledge of, under the character of companions. As I would neither have simplicity imposed upon, nor virtue contaminated, I must offer it as my opinion that the impropriety of such a step will be attended with dangerous conséquences. It

has never been my way to treat the infamous or the lewd with severity; nor should I now have taken this method of explaining myself, or reproving folly, did it not aim at guilt. Take, therefore, the admonition of a friend, and seriously reflect on the conse. quences of introducing infamy and vice into retreats where peace and innocence have hitherto resided.'

Our doubts were now at an end. There seemed indeed something applicable to both sides in this letter, and its censures might as well be referred to those to whom it was written, as to us; but the malicious meaning was obvious, and we went no farther. My wife had scarce patience to hear me to the end, but railed at the writer with unrestrained resentment. Olivia was equally severe, and Sophia seemed perfectly amazed at his baseness. As for my part, it appeared to me one of the vilest instances of unprovoked ingratitude I had ever met with. Nor could I account for it in any other manner than by imputing it to his desire of detaining my youngest

ughter in the country, to have the more frequent opportunities of an interview. In this manner we all sat ruminating upon schemes of vengeance, when our other little boy came running in to tell us, that Mr. Burchell was approaching at the other end of the field. It is easier to conceive than describe the complicated sensations which are felt from the pain of a recent injury, and the pleasure of approaching vengeance. Though our intentions were only to upbraid him with his ingratitude; yet it was resolved to do it in a manner that would be perfectly cutting. For this purpose we agreed to meet him with our usual smiles, to chat in the beginning with more than ordinary kindness, to amuse him a little; and then in the midst of the flattering calm, to burst upon him like an earthquake, and overwhelm him with the sense of his own baseness. This being resolved upon, my wife undertook to manage the business herself, as she really had some talents for

such an undertaking. We saw him approach; he entered, drew a chair, and sat down. A fine day, Mr. Burchell. A very fine day, doctor; though I fancy we shall have some rain, by the shooting of my corns. The shooting of your horns,' cried my wife, in a loud fit of laughter, and then asked pardon for being fond of a joke. Dear madam,' replied he, I pardon you with all my heart; for I protest I should not have thought it a joke, had you not told me.' Perhaps not, Sir,' cried my wife, winking at us; and yet I dare say you can tell us how many jokes go to an ounce. I fancy, madam,' returned Burchell, you have been reading a jest book this morning, that ounce of jokes is so very good a conceit: and yet, madam, I had rather see half an ounce of understanding.' I believe you might,' cried my wife, still smiling at us, though the laugh was against her. And yet I have seen some men pretend to understanding, that have very little.'

And no doubt,' replied her antagonist, you have known ladies set up for wits that had none." I quickly began to find, that my wife was likely to gain but little at this business; so I resolved to treat him in a style of more severity myself. Both wit and understanding,' cried I, are trifles without integrity; it is that which gives value to every character; the ignorant peasant, without fault, is greater than the philosopher with many; for what is genius or courage without an heart?

An honest man's the noblest work of God.'

I always held that hackneyed maxim of Pope,' returned Mr. Burchell, as very unworthy a man of genius, and a base desertion of his own superiority. As the reputation of books is raised, not by their freedom from defect, but the greatness of their beauties; so should that of men be prized, not from their exemption from fault, but the size of those virtues they are possessed of. The scholar may want prudence, the statesman may have pride, and

the champion ferocity; but shall we prefer to these the low mechanic, who laboriously plods on through life without censure or applause? We might as well prefer the tame correct paintings of the Flemish school, to the erroneous, but sublime animations of the Roman pencil.'

Sir, replied I, your present observation is just, when there are shining virtues and minute defects but when it appears that great vices are opposed ja the same mind to as extraordinary virtues, such a character deserves contempt.'

Perhaps, cried he, there may be some such monsters as you describe, of great vices joined to great virtues; yet, in my progress through life, I never yet found one instance of their existence a on the contrary, I have ever perceived, that where the mind was capacious, the affections were good. And indeed Providence seems kindly our friend in this particular, thus to debilitate the understanding where the heart is corrupt, and diminish the power where there is the will to do mischief. This rule seems to extend even to other animals: the little vermin race are ever treacherous, cruel, and cowardly; whilst those endowed with strength and power, are generous, brave, and gentle.'

These observations sound well,' returned I, and yet it would be easy this moment to point out a man, and I fixed my eye stedfastly upon him, ⚫ whose head and heart form a most detestable contrast, Aye, sir,' continued I, raising my voice,' and I am glad to have this opportunity of detecting him in the midst of his fancied security. Do you know this, Sir-this pocket-book? Yes, Sir,' returned he, with a face of impenetrable assurance; 'that pocket-book is, mine, and I am glad you have found it.' And do you know,' cried I, this letter? Nay, never falter man; but look me say, do you know this letter? he; yes, it was I that wrote how could you,' said I, presume to write this

full in the face: I That letter,' replied that letter. And so basely, so ungratefully, letter? And how came

you,' replied he, with looks of unparalleled effron. tery, so basely to presume to break open this letter? Don't you know, now, I could hang you all for this? All that I have to do, is to swear at the next justice's that you have been guilty of breaking open the lock of my pocket-book, and so hang you all up at this door.' This piece of unexpected insolence raised me to such a pitch that I could scarce govern my passion. Ungrateful wretch! be gone, and no longer pollute my dwelling with thy base

Be gone! and never let me see thee again : go from my door, and the only punishment I wish thee is an alarmed conscience, which will be a suf ficient tormentor! So saying, I threw him his poc ket-book, which he took up with a smile, and shutting the clasps, with the utmost composure, left us quite astonished at the serenity of his assurance. My wife was particularly enraged that nothing could make him angry, or make him seem ashamed of his villanies. My dear,' cried I, willing to calm those, passions that had been raised too high among us we are not to be surprised that bad men want shame; they only blush at being detected in doing good, but glory in their vices.

Guilt and Shame, (says the allegory) were at first companions, and in the beginning of their jour. ney inseparably kept together. But their union was soon found to be disagreeable and inconvenient to both: Guilt gave Shame frequent uneasiness, and Shame often betrayed the secret conspiracies of Guilt. After long disagreement, therefore, they at length consented to part for ever. Guilt boldly walked forward alone, to overtake Fate, that went before in the shape of an executioner; but Shame, being naturally timorous, returned back to keep company with Virtue, which in the beginning of their journey they had left behind.-Thus, my chil dren, after men have travelled through a few stages in vice, Shame forsakes them, and returns back to wait upon the few virtues they have still remaining."

E