selves soon, by a just retribution, to be the prey of| more powerful but not less filthy and disgusting vermin. Those spires seemed to point, too, to the abode of the living God as to the place to which this deluded land should look for the power that could dry those tears, and rob this grave of its sting and this universal death of its victory. It is true that in all revolutions there are and must be excesses; but Christianity is the best opponent of disorder and the surest corrector of its evils. When the English brought Charles I to the block, they retained their religion as the surety of public happiness; and such it proved to be. The virtue of the people remained, founded upon an enlightened Christianity. The public prosperity and morality clung to religion while the storm of revolution passed over the island, and found a sure support-as the vine throws its arms around the firm body of the oak, and, confident in the friendly assistance of its neighbor, defies the blast and the fury of the tempest. It is true that sometimes injustice was done and oppression was practised, but the nation as a body retained its senses, and public opinion frowned even during the height of tyranny, upon those isolated acts of rapine and bloodshed which occasionally stained the commonwealth. Let then France, during her revolution, prove to mankind forever the utter impracticability of maintaining good laws without the aid of Christianity, be the wisdom and refinement of the people what they may. I'LL THINK OF THEE, LOVE! BY PARK BENJAMIN. I'll think of thee, love! when the landscape is still, I'll think of thee, love! when the first sound of day I'll think of thee, dearest-and only of thee! AN INFANT'S SPIRIT. An infant's soul,-the sweetest thing of earth, A spirit of high wisdom, glory, power,- Amid the wonders of the shining thrones, With a reverence that partakes of enthusiasm, we look upon the laws of England. We see a noble castle composed of various edifices, which was weak in its construction and of perishable materials when it was first built. From the centre of this group of buildings has sprung up a tower whose foundation is of adamant, and whose walls are of THE HISTORY OF AN ADVENTURER. solid marble-modelled and erected by an Architect whose designs know not imperfection, and whose masonry is unacquainted with decay. Upon IN THREE PARTS. To the Editor of the Southern Literary Messenger. this centre building—the religion of Old England— In an age, marked like the present by such signal examhave the roofs of the tottering buildings which sur-ples of private vice and political profligacy, disguised oftrounded it been made to repose, and their walls times under an exterior of decorum and public spirit, it chained to its sides, and supported by props reclin- may not be unprofitable to consult the records of past deing on its foundations. This intimate union, while pravity, in order to discover the indications, by which the man of genuine virtue and the real patriot may be distinit strengthens the whole, has given a consistency guished from the hypocritical pretender. There is no winof appearance and an order to the building which dow in men's bosoms, through which we may discern the has adorned as much as it fortified it. Changes secret purposes and movements of the heart; nor can the are still being made to induce a close corresponunskilful multitude pretend, like the phrenological charladence with the central tower, and will continue to tan, to decypher the moral and intellectual character by an be made; but none which can possibly impair its sturdy strength, until some convulsion shall shatter in ruins the adamantine foundations and marble walls of that internal prop on which the whole reposes. Far distant may that day be, God grant! Let the Samson that pulls down this edifice be none other than Old Time, who shall reserve for one struggle the pillars of the universe and the pillars of the law. VOL. VI-18 inspection of the external irregularities of the cranium. Ignorant and shortsighted as we are, our only guide in the solution of these mysteries must be the imperfect light of experience and analogy. But should it happen, that a reprobate, stung by remorse or insensible to shame, lays bare the hidden recesses of wickedness, and exposes to view the foul tissue of selfish and vicious motives by which his ac tions were prompted, such a case would furnish at once an experimentum crucis, illustrating the causes of those moral phenomena, which have so often baffled the researches of mankind, and establishing the eternal connection between furnished an instructive lesson, teaching the hollowness and futility of those deceitful hopes, by which men, destitute of moral principle, are lured into the abyss of infamy and selfishness in principle and profligacy in practice. The world teems with examples of enterprising knaves, who, by some obscure path, have climbed the loftiest heights of distinetion, nor is it possible to trace the course of these rep-crime. I thought, therefore, that the publication of his tiles, till from some dark recess they suddenly emerge into manuscript might impart some interest to the pages of the notice. To arrest the progress of such vermin, or to destroy Messenger, and that, if any should deem the doctrines and their capacity for mischief, we must know their habits and arguments of this bold, bad man, pernicious in their tentheir haunts. A full development of their nature and in-dency, and calculated to mislead weak and unreflecting stincts, by one of the tribe, would, therefore, be a valuable minds, an antidote to the mischief would be found in the accession to the history of those animals, who have been sequel of his story, which would exhibit him stripped of all permitted, by an inscrutable arrangement of Providence, to those advantages so long the objects of his guilty pursuit, disturb, in appearance at least, the moral and physical gov-deserted and betrayed by the sycophants of his prosperity, ernment of the world. Let it not be supposed, that the exhibition of depravity, denuded of those specious disguises with which it is usually cloaked, would contaminate the moral sense of mankind. That "Vice is a monster of such horrid mein, As, to be hated, needs but to be seen," and, more cutting still, by his own child, and writhing under the anguish of remorse and disappointed ambition. Indeed, a conclusive refutation of his opinions, however plausibly defended, would be furnished, I should suppose, by their very extravagance, by the execrable maxims to which they lead, the total disorganization of social and civil society, which their general prevalence must inevitably produce; nor can I believe, that any mind, properly constituted, could be seduced into their adoption. To young men, especially, the cold, selfish, calculating policy, recommended and practised by the Adventurer, would, I am sure, present no allurements. In the genial season of youth, the passions are ardent and generous, and there is a strong belief in the reality of virtue. Burning with admiration of all that is great and noble, reposing with unsuspicious confidence on the sincerity of men, and revelling in the delights of love and friendship, the heart then shrinks with abhorrence from the bare semblance of fraud or circumvention. Such feelings as these must be strangers to the disciples of a man who inculcates a total distrust of human virtue, who makes self-interest the only rational guide of human conduct, who holds deceit and treachery to be legitimate modes of action, and who laughs at love and friendship as delusions. The writings most dangerous to youthful morals are those which paint in glowing colors the delights of vicious gratification, or which delineate men of great energies and brilliant virtues, hurried by the impetuosity of their passions into flagrant breaches of morality. Such portraitures inflame the susceptible imagination of youth, always too prone to make its own unbridled impulses an excuse for self-indulgence, and instil the pernicious heresy, that vehement passions are the necessary adjuncts of eminent virtue, and palliate the grossest enormities. Such tendencies are not imputable to the writings of the Adventurer. There is nothing meretricious, nothing alluring in his picture of vice. It is a coarse, vulgar figure, more like a camp trull, than a Ninon d'Enclos. In his choice of life, he is determined, not by the impulse of his passions, but by a cool calculation of profit and loss. He scoffs at all the charities which bind men togeth is a proposition not so inconsistent with experience, as, at first view, might be imagined. In those instances where the conduct of men seems to contradict this charitable view of human nature, they have generally been deceived by the sophistry of their own passions, or the artifices of designing knaves. It is by concealing their real character and motives under some plausible pretext of public or private virtue, that those, who act exclusively on the selfish system, succeed in securing the favor and confidence of mankind. Hypocrisy, it has been well said, is the homage which vice pays to virtue, and it must be confessed, that this spurious homage, the dictate of self-interest, is frequently mistaken by the superficial observer for the spontaneous effusion of the heart. The meed due only to real worth, is thus awarded by the erroneous judgment of men to consummate duplicity. Yet however depraved, in our present degenerate state, may be our principles and propensities, there is still imprinted on the hearts of the bulk of mankind a deep and abiding veneration for moral excellence, (the faint image of original innocence not yet effaced,) and a corresponding abhorrence of moral deformity. An act of generosity or benevolence kindles the enthusiasm and commands the unbought applause of the multitude, while, indignant at the spectacle of moral injustice, it often smites, with summary and lawless vengeance, fraud, tyranny, and ingratitude. These irregular ebullitions of violence, dangerous and inexcusable as they are, and frequently converted by the cunning of a few to the promotion of their own base schemes of interest or revenge, are usually, with the mass, the effect of an honest, misguided resentment, excited by some real or supposed infraction of right. Bad men sometimes enjoy a transient popularity, because their characters are misunderstood; but let the veil of prejudice or dissimula-er, all the affections which sweeten and endear existence, tion which covers their vices be once withdrawn, and the sense of rectitude inherent in human nature will stigmatize the detected knave with merited reprobation. vindication of their vices. To such, the sequel to the life of the Adventurer will demonstrate, that talent, undirected by moral principle, may prosper for a season, but that certain disaster awaits it, not more from the treachery of others, than from its own ungoverned propensities; and that, when and makes interest the pole-star of his career. Upon his principles, men would degenerate into an animal as fierce, unsocial and insidious as the tiger or hyena. Yet some, This train of reflection was suggested to me by the auto-bewildered by metaphysical subtleties, might be so blind as biography of a man of some talent, and formerly of dis-to embrace his principles from conviction, and others, altinction, which accidentally fell into my hands. Having, ready depraved, might seek in his arguments a plausible from authentic sources, known something of this man's career, I was struck with the audacious boldness with which he avows sentiments and principles of action, that, however common, are seldom acknowledged, and the undoubting assurance with which he derives his own success in life from a steadfast adherence to these profligate maxims. Ap-it experiences the inconstancy of fortune, it will be conprized that the gleam of delusive prosperity, in which he exults as the fruit of his principles and his address, had been quenched by a series of calamities, the natural consequences of his crimes, and that the wave of popularity, on which he fancied himself triumphantly riding, had suddenly subsided, leaving him a miserable wreck, "the scorn and by-word of the world," his biography, in my judgment, demned, like Philoctetes in the isle of Lemnos, to languish in solitude under wounds self-inflicted and immedicable, "the living ulcer of a corroding memory," unassuaged by the balm of human sympathy. In his theory of moral sentiments, the Adventurer main. tains, that, whatever color of justice or benevolence it may assume, all human conduct is in fact referable to self, to some proximate view of personal advantage or gratification; History has lavished its highest eulogies on many, whose and it must be acknowledged, that he testified, in his own pre-eminence was acquired by ductility and prudence, rathpractice, his confidence in the truth of his principles.er than virtue or talent. It is true, that these cases of unHence we may infer, that when a man professes similar merited distinction are, for the most part, the offspring of doctrines, and ascribes the noblest and most generous ac- cotemporary favor and partiality, and that time usually retions to interested motives, his sentiments reflect in truth verses the erroneous judgments of men. But numerous exthe feelings of his own bosom, and betray the baseness of amples might be adduced, where the wave of popular pretheir origin. A man who avows and acts on an opinion so judice, which has wafted crafty mediocrity to power and degrading to the dignity of human nature, should be regard- consequence, has continued to roll on with undiminished ed as hostis humani generis, a monster, dead to all the social force long after the causes which imparted its first impulse affections, who only consorts with his kind that he may have ceased to operate. Is it certain, then, that those illuspillage or betray them. The intelligent reader must per- trious names, upon whom history has bestowed such unceive in these pages striking proofs of the demoralizing in-bounded praise, are really the giants of intellect and models fluence of this pernicious doctrine, nor will he require any of purity, that we are accustomed to suppose? Seen suggestion of mine to deduce the salutary lessons which through a different medium, Arnold might have been the pathey inculcate. If it succeed in making this dogma of a soi-triot, and Washington the traitor. The multitude joins, disant philosophy as odious as it is grovelling and falla- with the same unreflecting vehemence, in the hiss of recious, the principal aim of the present publication will have proach and the acclamations of applause. been accomplished. PART I. D. Why, who cries out on pride, No one, it has been justly remarked, is a great man to his valet-de-chambre, and the reason is evident. It is because the familiarity of domestic intercourse exhibits the character naked and exposed, disrobed of those artificial integuments, those theatrical disguises, under which men strive to hide their infirmities and deceive the eyes of the multitude. Strip greatness of adventitious advantages, of cant and grimace, of the pomp and circumstance of office and of wealth, and you leave it a poor, forked, featherless biped, not more dignified, and scarcely less laughable, than the redoubted Justice Shallow. We know with what "base matter" party spirit frequently illuminates its idols; and may not that delusive glare have sometimes misled the most impartial historians? But even were it otherwise, how empty and worthless is mere posthumous fame, that phantom, which has lured so many wild enthusiasts to sacrifice case, pleasure, health, for the vain hope, when they are no longer sensible of applause, of filling a niche in the temple of glory! A wise man directs his ambition to the attainment of things which minister to present enjoyment. The plaudits of posterity concern him as little as those of the inhabitants of Loo Choo. As You Like It. Act 2. Scene 7. When we remark any uncommon instance of success in the pursuits of business or ambition, we naturally inquire, by what arts, or by what accidents of fortune, has the lucky adventurer contrived to escape the disasters and surmount the difficulties which usually defeat the enterprizes of men. Our curiosity is the more keenly excited, when the subject of our observation has emerged from indigence and obscu-to gratify our passions, else wherefore were they implanted? nty to wealth and distinction. We explore the adventures Power, wealth, influence, are only desirable as they conof his early life, we examine the peculiar traits of his mind duce to that object. If the end be lawful, the means neand character, to discover the causes of his extraordinary cessary to its attainment must be justifiable. The end of rise. Our researches serve only to confirm the remark of all our pursuits, veil it under what pretences we may, is Oxenstiern, that very little wisdom is required in the conduct happiness; not the happiness of the species, but the indiof human affairs. We perceive, that the most brilliant ac-vidual. We have a natural, indefeasible right to promote quisitions are more frequently the fruit of fortuitous circumstances, than of industry or forecast; and that genius and virtue, those vaunted idols of the poet and philosopher, are far less certain passports to success, than the dextrous cun ning and persevering selfishness, which make the folly and weaknesses of mankind subservient to their advancement. The caterpillar, to use a common figure, attains the highest In this enlightened age, no one would embrace the ridicupinnacles with as much certainty as the eagle. The one is lous dogmas of the stoic, and imagine happiness to consist struck down by the gun of the fowler; the other passes on in resisting all the impulses of nature. The pleasure deits obscure path, unenvied and unnoticed, till the sunshine rived from yielding to those impulses, sufficiently demonof prosperity transforms the filthy grub into the gaudy butter-strates, that we were intended to indulge them. If we fly. Are its colors less brilliant or less admired, because it want the capacity of obtaining that indulgence by direct has been hatched and nourished in a dung-hill? Let not means, we but conform to the analogies of nature in strithose, therefore, despair, whose moral and intellectual pre-ving by artifice and cunning to grasp the great object of all tensions are humble, but whose passions are as ardent as human exertion. To deny this, were to maintain that it is the most gifted of our species. It is not merit, but address, lawful to seek happiness, yet culpable to pursue the only which most frequently secures the gifts of fame and fortune. course by which it is attainable. The ties of blood and If, as Hobbes affirmed, man is so organized as to delight in perpetual warfare, he best fulfils the design of his creation, who, unmoved by chimerical visions of benevolence, regards his fellow creatures as lawful prey, to be subdued by force, or circumvented by fraud, as may most effectually promote his peculiar interests. Such a man, as Touchstone would say, is a natural philosopher. It cannot be criminal that happiness in our own way. If it be objected, that I employ vicious means to effect improper purposes, I answer, like Shylock, that it is my humor, which I have precisely the same right to consult, as he, who, seeking his own gratification, aims at objects supposed to be meritorious, by means that the unco gude are pleased to call virtuous. friendship, the abstractions of morality, the dreams of phi- | which men often disguise their selfish purposes) has had lanthropy, and all the multiplied prejudices, with which a very little influence on my actions, and, therefore, it is by vain philosophy would fetter our freeborn reason, have been long exploded in practice by men of the world. A prudent regard to these fantasies may be tolerated while they interpose no obstacle to the successful prosecution of our interests; but he, who, from a preposterous reverence for such delusions, incurs pain and privation, acts as absurdly as the idolatrous Hindu, who prostrates himself to be crushed beneath the car of Juggernaut. The man of virtue is the slave of reputation; but reputation is only valuable because it commands attention and respect. Does not every day's experience evince, that wealth and power, however acquired, are courted, and followed with far more observance, than that self-denying integrity, which relinquishes present enjoyment for an idle dream, that is never realized? And of what benefit is this boasted reputation, so keenly pursued, yet so rarely merited, to the pauper in his hovel? Plate sin with gold, And the strong lance of justice hurtless breaks : Why then this painful and unprofitable struggle with the dictates of nature, when fame, all that a wise man should covet, may be purchased with gold, or extorted by power, without plucking a single flower from the garland of pleasure? These principles lie upon the surface, and are intelligible to the meanest capacity. They are rooted in that universal sub-stratum of human action, the love of self, and require no deep metaphysical research to develop or explain them. A man need only look into his own bosom, and he discerns the rudiments of a philosophy more practical than was ever taught by Plato or Epictetus. Disdaining the inventions of pretended wisdom, which exacts a purity as impracticable as superfluous, he obeys those instincts which our common mother has implanted as the unerring guides of our conduct. Strange that a doctrine so obvious, and practised by men in all ages of the world, should never have found a place among the novelties of philosophical speculation. Fable describes truth as concealed in the bottom of a well, and, from some such conception of the difficulty and mystery that encompass it, we overlook the evidences of its existence around and within us, in pursuit of some fantastic and recondite hypothesis, repugnant alike to nature and common sense. This age has been signalized by its mechanical inventions; but, in future times, it will be far more celebrated for the rejection of those hoary prejudices, that have so long shackled the progress of reason, and kept men forever halting between their own untutored impulses and the dogmas of soi-disant philosophy. I am happy to observe, that the aspiring spirits of the present day have adopted more liberal and enlightened maxims, and boldly renounced the dominion of that scrupulous casuistry, whose meshes, "like the web of the spider, entangle only the small flies, while the great ones break through." I have always despised that system, which, under the specious names of morals and religion, controls the unthinking multitude, through prejudice or superstition, as a device of fraud or enthusiasm, inconsistent with the freedom, and offensive to the dignity of human nature. Unrestrained by such narrow and arbitrary notions, I have risen, with a moderate share of capacity, from the depths of obscurity, to wealth, power, and distinction. The occupation of sketching the scenes of my past life, of retracing the outlines of events which time had nearly effaced from my memory, has beguiled the tedium of my old age; and the vicissitudes of my history would, I doubt not, be fraught with both instruction and amusement to my young cotemporaries, who are now eagerly thronging every avenue to fame and fortune. The good of mankind (a pretext under no means certain, that any supposed benefit to others will ever induce me to expose these pages to the public view. That event, should it ever happen, will, probably, be postponed to a period when I shall be wholly insensible to the terrors of criticism. In this review of the past, though I perceive nothing in my conduct not clearly defensible on principles of right reason, yet, I confess, that some inci. dents have awakened involuntary compunctions, which all my philosophy has been unable to allay. These rebellious feelings furnish a striking example of the force of early im pressions, which cling to us in despite of the dictates of reason and the monitions of experience. The son of a nobleman, who prided himself on the dignity of his birth, has been styled in derision, "the accident of an accident." My case might much more aptly be referred to the chapter of accidents; for I was a foundling, and, in the emphatic language of the common law, the son of nobody My parents, finding my birth a reproach to their reputations, very prudently resolved to get rid of so disagreeable an incumbrance, and, before the affair took wind, Push'd me from shore, And launch'd me into life without an oar. I do not complain of their abandonment, for, in like circumstances, I should, probably, have acted as they did. The care of our offspring, when unattended with misery or disgrace, is the dictate of nature, and is, therefore, commendable. But I can see no reason, why the circumstance of our having given existence to a child imposes the neces sity of sacrificing our fame or happiness for its preservation. If the safety of the mother is supposed to require it, the attendants of a female do not hesitate to destroy the life of an unborn infant; and, if it were essential to our own security in a shipwreck, we would be clearly justified, on the principle of self-preservation, in thrusting our own child from the plank to which we were clinging. Granting the moral innocence of such a deed in these cases, then, by parity of reason, it must be equally excusable to prevent the loss of reputation. My parents were not constrained to avail themselves of this principle to its utmost extent. By adopting a middle course, they effected their object without compromising their consciences, if, indeed, that bugbear of timid souls ever gave them any uneasiness. During a cool night, in the month of October, they caused me to be deposited in a basket at the door of John Thompson, a respectable farmer in lower Virginia. Antiquity furnishes two examples of infants, committed to the same frail conveyance, who were destined, in after life, to act an important part in the world, to become law-givers, and the founders of powerful commonwealths. However brilliant the destiny betokened by this coincidence, unlike my great prototypes, I was indebted for my preservation, not to the miraculous care of a wolf, or the tenderness of a king's daughter, but to the warm-hearted benevolence of the farmer aforesaid. The feeble wail of an infant arrested his attention as he opened his door in the morning, and, observing the basket, he discovered a new-born babe, whose faint spark of life was nearly extinguished by cold and famine. Fortunately for me, Mr. Thompson was one of those weak, simple creatures, who are dupes to the antiquated idea, that charity is a duty to be performed at any expense of trouble or inconvenience. The cry of misery never encountered his ear in vain, and, on the present occasion, his sympathies were doubly enlisted by the helplessness and desolation of the poor infant, thus abandoned by the vice and cruelty of its parents, and exposed, at that tender age, half-clad, to the bleak temperature of an October night. Such an act argued a perfect indifference to its fate, and was little less criminal than actual infanticide. He has tened with the child to his wife's chamber, fearing it might | his mind, that they could be dispelled neither by observaexpire before the measures necessary to its restoration tion nor experience. With a wife and three infant daughcould be applied. The whole house was now in a bustle, ters, he had contrived, by dint of industry and economy, to and all “means and appliances" were immediately put in live in comfort and independence on his moderate property; requisition to recall my wasted animation. The activity of and yet, slender as his means were, he resolved not to deMrs. Thompson, never weary with well-doing, was indefati-sert the foundling, whose friendless and destitute condition gable till I was made warm and comfortable, and supplied with suitable nourishment. appealed so strongly to his feelings. There were no orphan asylums in those days, and, even if there had been, he would have thought his duty very imperfectly performed, by exposing a promising child to the moral contagion and cold Though my parents had sent me literally naked into the world, reckless of my fate, and without the slightest provision for my sustenance and education, they had unde-blooded tyranny of these public establishments. His wife signedly bestowed on me a most valuable inheritance, in a healthy, robust constitution. I throve apace under the fostering care of Mrs. Thompson. Having no son of her own, and being naturally of an affectionate disposition, she soon conceived for me the tenderest attachment. Relieved from all apprehension of my death, Mr. Thompson had now leisure to speculate on the cause and consequences of this strange and scandalous proceeding. and himself had long vainly coveted the birth of a son. This child, he thought, would fill the void in their affections, caused by this disappointment; and, as their prospect for more children was slender, (their youngest daughter being then three years old,) he could be reared with little incon. venience as a member of his own family. I was christened Anthony Newman, a name significant of the mystery of my birth, and which, by attracting attention to that circumstance, might lead hereafter to the discovery of my parents. Being nursed by Mrs. Thompson, with great care and tenderness, I soon became a thrifty, lively, and handsome child, and gained such a hold on the affections of my protector, that he determined to give me the best important advantage that I derived from my good looks. In after life, I have always found my personal comeliness a most persuasive and influential attribute with men, and still more with women. Exhibit Apollyon himself, divested of horn and hoof, in the semblance of a handsome man, and the fiend, I doubt not, would find favor in the eyes of the fair sex. In all situations and societies, female peccadillos of this kind are sure to produce a great sensation. The unfortunate Magdalen, on such occasions, is pursued with the most inveterate rancor by her own sex, and consigned, with unrelenting rigor, to the deepest pit of infamy. Whether all this clamor among the ladies proceeds from actual abhor-education his finances would justify. This was the first rence of the crime, or the love of scandal, or from a wish to impress the world with a high idea of their own purity, as cowards bluster to conceal their timidity, it might be invidiGus to determine. The torrent of vituperation, too, is always the more copious and noisy, when curiosity is whetted by circumstances of mystery, or when the affair has occurred in an unfrequented district. An event, so unusual in that quiet, sequestered neigborhood, created the most intense interest. It was a theme of perpetual discussion of the gossips, and such was the impression it produced, that even the most sedate, though not addicted to scandal, partook of the general excitement. The authors of this deed could scarcely have eluded the lynx-eyed vigilance of the enraged multitude, had not the precautions to prevent discovery been exceedingly well-concerted. All efforts to penetrate the mystery were unavailing. The strictest investigation furnished not even a trace of suspicion, that pointed to the real offenders. Proceeding upon presumptions, in the absence of more direct proof, it was unanimously concluded, that the child was the fruit of illicit love, and that it must be a case of aggravated guilt: for no female, it was argued, unless the motives for concealment were uncommonly powerful, could so far stifle the yearnings of maternal affection as to hazard the life of her infant. Having settled these points to their satisfaction, the gossips aforesaid found inexhaustible materials in the future for ingenious surmise and conjecture. Had the parents of this foundling abandoned it forever? or would they reclaim it at some convenient season? or would they secretly supply the expenses of its nurture and education? were questions, which there were no means of resolving, and which, of course, gave rise to endless debate. About two years after I was received into Mr. Thompson's family, his wife presented him with another daughter. The three elder girls were delighted with little Anty, and, indeed, I was the general favorite of the whole household. Even then the germ of that address, which I have since employed so successfully in the management of men, began to be unfolded. Few could resist my importunities, even at that early period, when I strove to coax them to my childish purposes. The interval between my infancy and manhood was chequered by no events of any importance. The mystery of my birth was still unravelled, and no circumstance indicated that my parents took any interest in me, or that they even existed. Mr. Thompson's daughters grew up to womanhood, and still manifested towards me the strongest marks of sisterly regard. At the age of ten, I was sent to school, where I exhibited an uncommon dexterity in all athletic games and exercises, became an adept in the petty gaming practised among boys, and was dreaded by my comrades for my courage and shrewdness. At the same time, I discovered such an aptitude in the acquisition of knowledge, that Mr. Thompson thought my capacity entitled to the benefit of a collegiate education. He sent me accordingly to the college of William and Mary, where I had more ample opportunities for the cultivation of my talents, and a larger theatre for the Mr. Thompson, though usually averse to such discussions, indulgence of my passions. My amusements were less took an active part in these inquiries. He was stimulated harmless than at school, and soon degenerated into the both by indignation and humanity to detect the actors in grossest dissipation and debauchery. Though dependant what he deemed a dark and infamous transaction, to compel for my pecuniary supplies on a man whose liberality was them to own and do justice to their child, and perhaps (for purely gratuitous, I did not scruple to apply to Mr. Thompselfishness lies at the root of actions apparently the most son for most extravagant advances, when gaming or other exdisinterested) a lurking anxiety to rid himself of a burthen, penses had exhausted my ordinary allowance, and involved so unceremoniously thrust upon him, was an additional in- me in embarrassments. I had not a spark of that foolish centive to his zeal. A romantic visionary, and a firm be- self-denying pride, which, for a vain punctilio, rejects the liever in the reality of human virtue, he was the natural benefits that court its acceptance. The world spoke loudly prey of the artful and sagacious; and, though, on more than in commendation of Mr. Thompson's munificence to the poor one occasion, he was beguiled of both time and money by foundling, and I knew he was not insensible to its applause. the craft of imposture, his credulity remained unshaken. I reckoned largely, too, on the pride which he took in my The prejudices of education had taken such strong hold on improvement, and I was not deceived. He straitened his |