Marg. Well, madam, I can say no more than this, if my lady, that I am now with, dismisses me, I shall be willing to do what I can.

The cousin was faithful to her word, and took not the least notice of the other affair; neither would she say any more to her at that time, resolving to talk with her mistress; and knowing where the lady was at Greenwich, she immediately takes a boat and goes down to her, and tells her the whole story of Margy and the Captain, as it related to the child she had tended before, and the captain's desire now to have her for the conduct for his own children; and, madam, says she, I come from the captain to beg your ladyship's consent to part with her.

Lady. Indeed, madam, you come with the most unwelcome message in the world to me,-the Captain is in the right to desire her, and shews that he is a true father to his children; but I should be as ill a mother to mine if I should part with her, for sure there never was such a sérvant in any house; and therefore, madam, if you have any sense of justice, do not attempt to rob me of a servant that I take to be as Jacob was to Laban, a blessing to my family.

Cous. Madam, you put me to the greatest strait in the world, I scarce know how to act in such an affair,-but the captain has laid great obligations upon Margy, and she ought a little to consider them.

Lady. Nay, madam, I hope you will not tamper with her, to entice her away.

Cous. No, madam, neither is she to be tampered with if she were to have ten times the wages you give her, she will not come away without your leave.

Lady. But then I find you have moved it to her.

Cous. Not in any unfair way, madam, I assure you, as you shall know afterwards.

Lady. But did she desire you to ask my consent?

Cous. No indeed, madam, I must do her that justice;

she is so stiff in that point, that she would not consent that I should come to ask you. She says you have been very good to her, and she has nothing to complain of; and though she owns her obligation to the captain, and though be offered to double her wages, she says she cannot in conscience quit your family, where she thinks you have some little dependance on her service among your children,— nothing can bring her to it but your consent.

Ludy. Why then your business is at an end; for the Captain may be satisfied, that the very same reason which makes him desire to have her, makes me desire to keep her, and you may be assured you will never have my consent, no hardly if he would marry her.

Cous. Really, madam, I foresaw it before I came, and so did the captain; and if I had not had something to say, which I did believe you could not resist, I had not given you this trouble. It is evident the maid would not stir without your dismiss, and we know no lady, that had any affection for her children, and sense of the manner with which this maid behaves herself among children, would part with her; and therefore I must own, I believe, though I am not empowered to tell you so positively, that rather than his children shall want such a teacher, he will, one time or other, make her their mother.

[Here she repeats the discourse, between the Captain and the maid, and between the captain and herself, after the maid was gone.]

Lady. Then my poor children are ruined.

[The lady weeps.]

Cous. Oh madam! do not say so, your children, blessed be God, have their mother; while your ladyship lives they will never want an instructor. The captain's are left to the wide world, without a mother, and, if he goes abroad, without a father too.

Lady. I tell you, this maid has been father, mother, nurse, school-mistress, every thing to my children; she is a

pattern to all the servants in the nation,-she has a rule with her, that I fear maid servants that tend children know little of.

Cous. I know not what her rules are, but I know what her practice was when she tended my little cousin.

[Here she relates to her the conduct of the maid with the little child, her cousin.j

Lady. One of her rules is, that when a maid-servant takes upon her to tend little children, it is her duty to instruct and teach them, as well as tend and wait upon them-I wish all maid-servants observed the same method.

Cous. Indeed, madam, I believe few maid-servants mind that part much.

Lady. On the contrary, they teach children little simple songs, bad words, and ill habits; but this is such a conscientious creature, she makes children Christians even before they know what a Christian is; she teaches them the fear and knowledge of God, even before she is able to make them read.

Cous. She has also a most affectionate way with her, to bring children to love what they learn, and they come out of her hands strangely altered.

Lady. Altered madam! my children are quite another sort of creatures, since she has had them; she infuses things insensibly into them,-they learn manners, duty and religion, all together, of her. I have little a child here, my daughter, that is but five years old, and I am sure when it came to her it had learned nothing but little foolish answers to common questions, which it understood nothing of when it spoke; and a great many little simple songs, which were scarce fit for children to repeat, but now we hear nothing at all of them.

Cous. No, Madam, I believe Margy would soon persuade the child off of that.

Lady. I know not what she has done, but I assure you the little creature fetched tears out of my eyes one night since we came hither, to see how it acted when it wanted

Margy; for you know she stays at London sometimes while we are herc. I will tell you a short story of her.

I made the child lie with me one night, Margy being away, and I put her to bed myself, not caring to trust any other servant; when I had almost undressed her, she pulled me, two or three times, and I could not imagine what the child meant: at last she looked up in my face very steadily, but said nothing; and still I did not understand the child. When she could find no way to make me know what she meant without speaking, she says two or three times over, Down mamma, down mamma: down my dear, said I, what must I sit down for? She pulls me again, Down mamma, says she so I sat down upon a little stool. No, down here, mamma, says the child, looking on one side of the stool. So stupid a fool was I all this while, that I could not yet imagine what the child meant. So it said again, Down here, mamma, and points to the floor. Not dreaming yet what she meant, I laughed at her; What, must I sit upon the floor? ye simple little rogue you, said I; no, no, I will sit here. With that the child looking mighty grave, and a little tending towards crying, says to me, Down so, mamma, and claps down upon its knees. This a little startled me: Oh my dear, said I, I did not understand thee: Come then, kneel down and say your prayers. It would not do yet, this was not what the child meant. No, mamma, says the child, you kneel down, say prayers.

Cous. It was very pretty indeed.

Lady. Pretty, madam! it was such a reproach to me, my very blood and bowels turned within me, and I knew not what to say or do ; it was a long while before I could speak to the child, and it began to pull me again. At last I said, why? my dear, why must I say prayers? Margy is gone, mamma, says the child. Why, my dear, says I, does Margy kneel down so always and say prayers when you go to bed? Yes, Mamma, says the child, and me too. I said nothing a while; for indeed my heart was full: but after a

ittle more stop, says the child, mamma, may we go to bed without say prayers? No, no, my dear, says I,-though God knows, my heart reproached me, that I had done it many a time. The child continued to teaze me again,-Do then, mamma, says she, and pulls me by the apron. Then tears burst out of my eyes in spite of my resistance, and I took the poor little creature in my arms, and kneeled down with it, and prayed to God to bless it as well as I could,— for I was hardly able to speak.

Cous. It was very moving indeed.

Lady. But it did not end here. When I had set the child down, and was stepped a little way from it, to tell you the truth, to give vent a little to my passions, I turned about after some time, to see what the child was doing, because I did not hear it; and the dear little creature was gone to the foot of the bed, and kneeled down, and praying softly by itself. Judge you, madam, what a sight this was to a mother that really had never had any hand in the happy instruction that had brought it to this. After some time, I asked her, if Margy taught her to do so? And she said yes. Then I asked her, how often? And she said, every night and every morning. And this is the maid you are come to take away from me.

Cous. Well, madam, but as she has carried your children on so well and so far; for this, I suppose, is your youngest, you can the better spare her; she has taught them very happily I find hitherto.

Lady. Taught them! she has taught them and taught me too; she is a pattern to all servants, aye, and mistresses too, for the conduct of children.

Cous. Well, madam, and can you blame the Captain for desiring such a teacher for his children?

Lady. No indeed, nor for taking such a one to be his wife neither, since I understand he is vastly rich, and needs not value the marrying a wife without money.

Cous. Indeed though I am very much Margy's friend,