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certain composition, not unlike flint in its hardness and other properties; for you may strike fire from them, which will dart through the eyes, but they can never distil one drop of water the same way. His own, poor youth, was of a softer composition; and at those words,
O my dear Fanny! O my love! shall I never, never
see thee more?' his eyes overflowed with tears, which would have become anything but a hero. In a word, his despair was more easy to be conceived than related.
Mr. Adams, after many groans, sitting with his back to Joseph, began thus in a sorrowful tone: "You cannot
imagine, my good child, that I entirely blame these • first agonies of your grief; for when misfortunes attack
us by surprise, it must require infinitely more learning than you are master of to resist them; but it is the
business of a man and a Christian to summon reason bas quickly as he can to his aid; and she will presently • teach him patience and submission. Be comforted, • therefore, child; I say be comforted. It is true, you • have lost the prettiest, kindest, loveliest, sweetest young (woman, one with whom you might have expected to have lived in happiness, virtue, and innocence; by whom you might have promised yourself many little darlings, who would have been the delight of your youth, and the comfort of your age. You have not only lost her, but have reason to fear the utmost vio·lence which lust and power can inflict upon her. Now, . indeed, you may easily raise ideas of horror, which "might drive you to despair.'-—-0 I shall run mad!' cries Joseph. O that I could but command my hands
to tear my eyes out, and my flesh off!'_ If you would 6 use them to such purposes, I am glad you can't,' answered Adams. “I have stated your misfortunes as
strong as I possibly can; but, on the other side, you 6 are to consider you are a Christian; that no accident
"happens to us without the divine permission, and that
it is the duty of a man and a Christian to submit. We did not make ourselves; but the same power which 'made us, rules over us, and we are absolutely at his disposal; he may do with us what he pleases, nor have we any right to complain. A second reason against
our complaint is our ignorance; for as we know not ' future events, so neither can we tell to what purpose
any accident tends; and that which at first threatens • us with evil may in the end produce our good. I should indeed have said our ignorance is twofold (but I have not at present time to divide properly), for as we know not to what purpose any event is ultimately directed; so neither can we affirm from what cause it originally sprung. You are a man, and consequently 'a sinner; and this may be a punishment to you for 'your sins : indeed in this sense it may be esteemed as "a good, yea, as the greatest good, which satisfies the "anger of heaven, and averts that wrath which cannot
continue without our destruction. Thirdly, our impotency in relieving ourselves demonstrates the folly and absurdity of our complaints : for whom do we resist, or against whom do we complain, but a power from whose shafts no armour can guard us, no speed can fly ?-a power which leaves us no hope but in submission.' O Sir!' cried Joseph, all this is very true, and very fine, and I could hear you all day, if I was not so grieved at heart as now I am.'- Would you take physic,' says Adams, 'when you are well, and refuse it when you are sick? Is not comfort to be administered to the afflicted, and not to those who rejoice, or those who are at ease?'—'0! you have not spoken one word of comfort to me yet !' returned Joseph. "No!' cries Adams; What am I then doing? what can I say to
comfort you?'—'O tell me,' cries Joseph, that Fanny
• will escape back to my arms, that they shall again
enclose that lovely creature, with all her sweetness, all "her untainted innocence about her!'—Why, perhaps you may,' cries Adams; but I can't promise you what's to come. You must with perfect resignation wait the event: if she be restored to you again, it is your duty to be thankful, and so it is if she be not. Joseph, if you are wise, and truly know your own interest, you will peaceably and quietly submit to all " the dispensations of Providence, being thoroughly as
sured, that all the misfortunes, how great soever, which “happen to the righteous, happen to them for their own good. Nay, it is not your interest only, but your duty, to abstain from immoderate grief; which if you indulge, you are not worthy the name of a Christian.'— He spoke these last words with an accent a little severer than usual; upon which Joseph begged him not to be angry, saying, he mistook him if he thought he denied it was his duty, for he had known that long ago. What
signifies knowing your duty, if you do not perform it?' answered Adams. Your knowledge increases your guilt. "O Joseph! I never thought you had this stubbornness "in your mind.' Joseph replied, he fancied he misunderstood him ; which I assure you,' says he, "you do, if 'you imagine I endeavour to grieve; upon my soul I
don't. Adams rebuked him for swearing; and then proceeded to enlarge on the folly of grief, telling him, all the wise men and philosophers, even among the heathens, had written against it, quoting several passages from Seneca, and the consolation, which, though it was not Cicero's, was, he said, as good almost as any of his works; and concluded all by hinting, that immoderate grief in this case might incense that power which alone could restore him his Fanny. This reason, or indeed rather the idea which it raised of the restoration of his mistress, had more effect than all which the parson had said before, and for a moment abated his agonies ; but when his fears sufficiently set before his eyes the danger that poor creature was in, his grief returned again with repeated violence, nor could Adams in the least assuage it; though it may be doubted, in his behalf, whether Socrates himself could have prevailed any better.
They remained some time in silence; and groans and sighs issued from them both; at length Joseph burst out into the following soliloquy:
Yes, I will bear my sorrows like a man,
Adams asked him what stuff that was he repeated ? To which he answered, they were some lines he had gotten by heart out of a play.— Ay, there is nothing but heathenism to be learned from plays,' replied he. 'I never heard of any plays fit for a Christian to read, but Cato and the Conscious Lovers; and I must own, ' in the latter there are some things almost solemn enough ' for a sermon. But we shall now leave them a little, and inquire after the subject of their conversation.
More adventures, which we hope will as much please as
surprise the reader. Neither the facetious dialogue which passed between the poet and the player, nor the grave and truly solemn discourse of Mr. Adams, will, we conceive, make the
reader sufficient amends for the anxiety which he must have felt on the account of poor Fanny, whom he left in so deplorable a condition. We shall therefore now proceed to the relation of what happened to that beautiful and innocent virgin, after she fell into the wicked hands of the captain.
The man of war having conveyed his charming prize out of the inn a little before day, made the utmost expedition in his power towards the squire's house, where this delicate creature was to be offered up a sacrifice to the lust of a ravisher. He was not only deaf to all her bewailings and entreaties on the road, but accosted her ears with impurities, which, having been never before accustomed to them, she happily for herself very little understood. At last he changed this note, and attempted to soothe and mollify her, by setting forth the splendour and luxury which would be her fortune with a man who would have the inclination, and power too, to give her whatever her utmost wishes would desire; and told her, he doubted not but she would soon look kinder on him, as the instrument of her happiness, and despise that pitiful fellow, whom her ignorance could only make her fond of. She answered, she knew not whom he meant; she never was fond of any pitiful fellow. Are you
affronted, Madam,' says he, at my calling him so? • But what better can be said of one in a livery, not
withstanding your fondness for him ?' She returned that she did not understand him, that the man had been her fellow-servant, and she believed was as honest a creature as any alive; but as for fondness for men—'I
warrant ye,' cries the captain, we shall find means to ' persuade you to be fond; and I advise you to yield
to gentle ones, for you may be assured that it is not in your power, by any struggles whatever, to preserve your virginity two hours longer. It will be your