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whom some of our officers supposed to have a treasure hidden somewhere; which is no uncommon practice in that country. They pressed him to discover it. He declared he had none; but that would not satisfy them so they ordered him to be tied to a stake, and suffer fifty lashes every morning till he should learn to speak out, as they said. Oh! Mr. Harley, had you seen him, as I did, with his hands bound behind him, suffering in silence, while the big drops trickled down his shrivelled cheeks, and wet his gray beard; which some of the inhuman soldiers plucked in scorn! I could not bear it, I could not for my soul; and one morning, when the rest of the guard were out of the way, I found means to let him escape. I was tried by a court-martial for negligence of my post, and ordered, in compassion of my age, and having got this wound in my arm, and that in my leg, in the service, only to suffer three hundred lashes, and be turned out of the regiment; but my sentence was mitigated as to the lashes, and I had only two hundred. When I had suffered these, I was turned out of the camp, and had betwixt three and four hundred miles to travel before I could reach a sea-port, without guide to conduct me, or money to buy me provisions by the way. I set out, however, resolved to walk as far as I could, and then to lay myself down and die. But I had scarce gone a mile when I was met by the Indian whom I had delivered. He pressed me in his arms, and kissed the marks of the lashes on my back a thousand times; he led me to a hut where some friend of his dwelt; and, after I was recovered of my wounds, conducted me so far on my journey himself, and sent another Indian to guide me through the rest. When we parted, he pulled out a purse with two hundred pieces of gold in it. "Take this," said he, "my dear preserver, it is all I have been able to procure." I begged him not to bring himself to poverty for my sake, who should pro
bably have no need of it long: but he insisted on my accepting it. He embraced me:-"You are an Englishman,' said he, "but the great Spirit has given you an Indian heart; may he bear up the weight of your old age, and blunt the arrow that brings it rest!" We parted; and not long after, I made shift to get my passage to England. It is but about a week since I landed, and I am going to end my days in the arms of my son. This sum may be of use to him and his children; it is all the value I put upon it. I thank Heaven I never was covetous of wealth; I never had much, but was always so happy as to be contented with my little."
When Edwards had ended his relation, Harley stood a while looking at him in silence; at last he pressed him in his arms, and when he had given vent to the fulness of his heart by a shower of tears; Edwards," said he, "let me hold thee to my bosom; let me imprint the virtue of thy sufferings upon my soul. Come, my honoured veteran! let me endeavour to soften the last days of a life worn out in the service of humanity; call me also thy son, and let me cherish thee as a father." Edwards, from whom the recollection of his own sufferings had scarcely forced a tear, now blubbered like a boy; he could not speak his gratitude, but by some short exclamations of blessings upon Harley.
When they had arrived within a little way of the village they journeyed to, Harley stopped short, and looked stedfastly on the mouldering walls of a ruined house that stood on the road side. "Oh Heavens!" he cried, "what do I see silent, unroofed, and desolate! are all thy gay tenants gone? Do I hear their hum no more? Edwards, look there, look there! the scene of my infant joys, my earliest friendships, laid waste and ruinous! That was the very school where I was boarded when you were at South-hill; it is but a twelvemonth since I saw it standing, and its
benches filled with cherubs: that opposite side of the road was the green on which they sported; see it now ploughed up! I would have given fifty times its value to have saved it from the sacrilege of that plough."
"Dear Sir," replied Edwards, "perhaps they have left it from choice, and may have got another spot as good." "They cannot," said Harley, "they cannot; I shall never see the sward covered with its daisies, nor pressed by the dance of the dear innocents: I shall never see that stump decked with the garlands which their little hands had gathered. These two long stones, which now lie at the foot of it, were once the support of a hut I myself assisted to rear: I have sat on the sods within it, when we had spread our banquet of apples before and been more blest-Oh! Edwards! infinitely more blest than ever I shall be again." Just then a woman passed them on the road, and discovered some signs of wonder at the attitude of Harley, who stood, with his hands folded together, looking with a moistened eye on the falling pillars of the hut. He was too much entranced in thought to observe her at all; but Edwards, civilly accosting her, desired to know if that had not been the school-house, and how it came into the condition in which they now saw it? Alack-a-day!" said she, "it was the school-house indeed; but to be sure, sir, the 'squire has pulled it down, because it stood in the way of his prospects.”
What! how! prospects! pulled down!" cried Harley."Yes, to be sure, sir; and the green where the children used to play, he has ploughed up, because, he said, they hurt his fence on the other side of it.” "Curses on his narrow heart," cried Harley, "that could violate a right so sacred Heaven blast the wretch!
"And from his derogate body never spring
"But I need not, Edwards, I need not" (recovering himself a little), "he is cursed enough already to
him the noblest source of happiness is denied; and the cares of his sordid soul shall gnaw it, while thou sittest over a brown crust, smiling on those mangled limbs that have saved thy son and his children!" " If you want any thing with the school-mistress, sir,' said the woman, 66 I can shew you the way to her house." He followed her without knowing whither he went. They stopped at the door of a snug habitation, where sat an elderly woman with a boy and a girl before her, each of whom held a supper of bread and milk in their hands. "There, sir, is the schoolmistress."-" Madam," said Harley, 66 was not an old venerable man school-master here some time ago?"
"Yes, sir, he was; poor man! the loss of his former school-house, I believe, broke his heart, for he died soon after it was taken down; and as another has not yet been found, I have that chargé in the mean time."- " And this boy and girl, I presume, are your pupils?"—" Ay, sír, they are poor orphans, put under my care by the parish; and more promising children I never saw." Orphans!" said Harley. "Yes, sir, of honest creditable parents as any in the parish; and it is a shame for some folks to forget their relations, at a time when they should most remember them."—" Madam," said Harley, "let us never forget that we are all relations." He kissed the children.
“ Their father, sir," continued she, “was a farmer here in the neighbourhood, and a sober industrious man he was; but nobody can help misfortunes: what with bad crops, and bad debts, which are worse, his affairs went to wreck; and both he and his wife died of broken hearts. And a sweet couple they were, sir; there was not a properer man to look on in the county than John Edwards, and so indeed were all the Edwardses." "What Edwardses?" cried the old soldier, hastily. "The Edwardses of South-hill; and a worthy family they were."-"South-hill!" said he,
in a languid voice, and fell back into the arms of the astonished Harley. The school-mistress ran for some water and a smelling-bottle, with the assistance of which they soon recovered the unfortunate Edwards. He stared wildly for some time, then folding his orphan grand-children in his arms, "Oh! my children, my children!" he cried, "have I found you thus? my poor Jack! art thou gone? I thought thou shouldst have carried thy father's gray hairs to the grave? And these little ones"-his tears choaked his utterance, and he fell again on the necks of the children.
"My dear old man!" said Harley, "Providence has sent you to relieve them; it will bless me, if I can be the means of assisting you."-"Yes, indeed, sir," answered the boy; "father, when he was dying, bade God bless us; and prayed, that if grandfather lived, he might send him to support us." "Where did they lay my boy?" said Edwards. "In the old church yard," replied the woman, "hard by his mother."" I will shew it to you," answered the boy; "for I have wept over it many a time, when first I came amongst strange folks." He took the old man's hand, Harley laid hold of his sister's, and they walked in silence to the church-yard.
There was an old stone, with the corner broken off, and some letters half covered with moss, to denote the names of the dead: there was a cyphered R. E. plainer than the rest: it was the tomb they sought. "Here it is, grandfather," said the boy. Edwards gazed upon it without uttering a word: the girl, who had only sighed before, now wept outright: her brother sobbed, but he stifled his sobbing. "I have told sister," said he, "that she should not take it so to heart; she can knit already, and I shall soon be able to dig: we shall not starve, sister, indeed we shall not, nor shall grandfather neither." The girl cried afresh; Harley kissed off her tears as they flowed, and wept between every kiss.