way to have her brother come again; but when he came to be told of it, he insolently answered, he would not come unless his father would send for him. This, you may be sure, was provoking ; nay, sister, it moved me so at them both, that though he is my own son, and my eldest, I care not if I never see him more, except in the terms as above; and as for her, I commit her to God's mercy, and concerned myself no more about her, otherwise than to take care she wanted nothing.

Aunt. I never heard the like in my life. Pray what said my brother?

Moth. Truly, he was not so provoked at it, as I thought he would have been ; I mean it did not throw him into a passion. He retired into his closet, and in an bour or two came down again, composed in his temper; but I could see, like that of Job, his grief was great: and indeed, from that time, I thought it my duty rather to comfort my husband than my daughter. While she continued ill, he was very uneasy and impatient; but wben she recovered again, he was better satisfied, and thought less of her. Our next consideration was, what was to be done with her, for our family looked very oddly; we had authority quite turned upside down among us ; instead of her father refusing to be reconciled to her, who had been the guilty person, and had provoked him to the uttermost, truly she pretended resentment, and refused to be reconciled to her father.

Aunt. It was strange usage, I confess; I did not think she had been of such a spirit.

Moth. When she was recovered, and was well enough to go abroad, instead of going to church to give God thanks for restoring her health, she wanted to go to a young wild companion of her’s, my Lady Lighthead, that they might go to the play together. I could not bear the thoughts of this with any patience; but not being willing to disturb her father with it, because I knew it would exas. perate him, I took upon me to tell her, of my own authority, that she should not go; at which she said very smartly


to me, she had but one request more to make me as long as she lived: and wbat's that? said I ; that you'll let me go to service, says she, very scornfully. Dear sister, you may judge how cutting this usage has been to us, who so dearly loved this child, as that we distinguished her in our affection from the rest of our children, and that even to a fault.

Aunt. That kind of love is generally so returned, sister, and Providence suffers it to be so, as a just punishment for an ill grounded and unequal dividing our affection umong our children; in which case we may read our sin in our punishment. But I pray what said you to her?. I know not, I confess, what I should have done or said to it. I belicve I should have been apt to have told her, that her petition was granted.

Moth. If I bad consulted my own passions, rather than her welfare, I should have done so too; for I was not without resentment enough; but I saw, sister, she was rash and foolish, and I was not so willing to let her ruin herself, as she was to do it.

Annt. But pray what did you say to her?

Moth. I told her, it was a pity a petition that had so much ingratitude in it, should not find resentment enough in me to grant it; that, however, I would give her a week to cool her thoughts in; and in that time I would have her consider seriously of what she had desired; and if she would say then, calmly and deliberately, that she desired it still, I would acquaint her father with it, and it should be granted : only I bade her remember the condition which her father had made with her brother, viz. that if ever be set his foot out of the house in this quarrel, he should never have leave to set his foot in it again, but as a penitent; and she might depend upon it, that both her father and I too would make the same conditions with her at parting. And so I left her to consider of it.

Aunt. I suppose she was wiser when she thought of it. Moth. Yes, about three or four days after, she asked


me if I would give her leave to go to her aunt's, meaning your house? I told her, yes, I would consent to that, if her father would agree to it. So, at her request, I asked her father to let her go to your house; and he was willing enough, in hopes your family would inure and acquaint her with good things; but he would not consent till she bad promised solemnly that she would keep no company, nor go to any plays, or bring printed plays home to your house; and she promised she would not: so we sent her to you; but I dare say she will not keep her word,

Aunt. Well, she is very welcome to my house ; and I assure you, as I said before, she carries herself very mo. destly and handsomely among us.

Moth. Nay, she is of a very good temper, and an obliging carriage enough. She wants neither wit nor man

She wants nothing, sister, but God's grace. Aunt. All our children love her company extremely, and some of them more than I have told



yet. Moth. And do you think she has kept her promise with us, about plays and my lady?

Aunt. I dare say she has, as I said before ; for we see nobody come near her, but her brother sometimes; and she tells us, in compliment, she is exceedingly diverted with the company of my daughters; so that she has quite left off all conversation.

Moth. And does she conform to your family orders, sister, and appear at family-worship constantly?

Aunt. Indeed, sister, she must do it in our house, or we would not keep her there ; nay, none of our children would keep her company, or endure her, if she did not; for, I thank God, we have no contemners of religion among us. But I must do my niece that justice, that I never perceived the least reluctancy in her to any thing that was good in tay life, I mean at our house ; nay, sister, we have a mighty opinion of her being very sober; and you will say so too, when I tell you really what I came hither about at this time.


Moth. What is that, sister? Aunt. Why, I am come to ask her of you, and my brofor

my son. Moth. Dear sister, we are but in a sorry circumstance, as to her, to be jested with. Your son is a pretty youth, and God may give her more grace by that time he is fit for a wife. If she is fit to deserve him, you might be sure we should not be against it; but their age would be unequal; and they are very near a-kin, sister: besides, those things are remote. I have no heart to talk of marrying her. I dare not wish any family that I have a value for to venture

upon her.

Aunt. You quite mistake me, sister; it is not my own son that I mean, but my son-in-law, my husband's son. I assure you

I am not in jest.
Moth. I am surprised to hear you talk so, sister.

Aunt. Well, do not be surprised; I must talk with you about it in earnest.

Moth. Dear sister, do not entertain such a thought, I am sure I can never agree to it, for your sake. You will but injure your own peace, and my brother, your husband, will think you and we are' confederate, to draw him in; besides, you know he has a good estate settled upon him; and as for this girl, she has so disobliged her father, I cannot in conscience desire bim to do any thing for her, especially while she is in this state of obstinacy and rebellion. How can it be expected? Therefore, if you love your own family's peace, I would advise you seriously not to think of such a thing : besides, sister, your son-in-law is a sober, virtuous, religious gentleman : you see what a mad, desperate, furious spirit this girl is of,-a professed enemy

to all that is good,-one that has broke from her father, merely because he would reform her. You cannot in conscience propose such a match to a gentleman that deserve so well.

I would not have a hand in making him so miserable for the world.

Aunt. Sister, sister, you speak very honestly, and like

yourself: but you quite mistake the case. You take this for a project of my own, to advance your daughter, and oblige you and my own family; but you are quite wrong, the young gentleman has made the motion to his father, and bis father to me; so that I only came on this errand, 'tis all matter of their own choice: the young man first, and the father consented at his request.

Moth. I am amazed at it. Do they know the breach that has been among us?

Aunt. Yes, every word of it. Moth. Dear sister, do not deceive me; I will never give my consent so much as to speak a word further about it, unless they are told the worst of it all; for I will be no cheat: they shall never say they were deceived by me, though it be for my own daughter.

Aunt. Indeed, sister, I have not deceived them; for I talked with my son-in-law two hours, and told him every word I knew of it all: neither could it be hid; for every one in our family knows it: she does not deny it herself. As I told you, she always breaks out into tears, and we don't care to grieve ber; so we forbear it as much as possible, but she knows that we all know of it. Besides, you will be satisfied by a reason you shall bear presently, that she has some sense of her circumstances; for that when we have talked to her of marrying, and named such a one, or such another, she would say to 'us, why do we talk to her of marrying, that has no fortune ? and that her father will give her nothing; that she never expects he will be reconciled to her again, or do any thing for her, and the like; and then it always ends in tears, and that makes us break off the story.

Moth. Upon what foundation, then, sister, can this proposal be'made to her father? It is certain, that though no family could be more agreeable to us than your's, yet it cannot be expected he should hear any thing of it, until she comes and humbles herself, and acknowledges ber fault. Indeed, nobody can propose it to him before, upon any

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