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was returned, that he looked so joyful. O no, cried he, it is better than that. I had rather that the ten plagues of Egypt should have come than she. But John Wake is returned. What, he overtook them then, and recovered your money?- no, replied he, the honest fellow could neither see nor hear of thém.
I cannot understand then, said Mr. Neville, what reason you have for being so joyful.
I will tell you, answered he. When that villain Dulverton came in the chaise, my wife, who had been employed in packing up every thing valuable, that would lie in a little compass, called Wake to carry a box which she gave him, ordering him to place it under the seat of the chaise, and saying that she would send some bundles to be put with it. As Wake was carrying the box he thought it very heavy, and upon shaking it heard the sound of money. It immediately struck him that something wrong was going on; so he set down the box in the chaise, and, when the chambermaid brought the bundles, put them under the seat. Then putting the box under his frock, he carried it off without being observed.
When he returned, continued my father, I asked him if he had heard any thing of Dulverton. Nothing, Sir, said he, though I made all the inquiry I could. I was afraid that all was not right; therefore when I was putting the things into the chaise-boxYou infamous villain, cried I, what, clid you send off my property ? I beg you to get out of my sight. The poor fellow left the room almost in tears. I was immediately sorry for being in a passion, knowing that he was obliged to obey the commands of his mistress. He soon returned with the box. Sir, said he, when I was putting the things into the chaise-box, I was afraid all was not right; therefore putting this box under my frock, I carried it to your library. Taking the box from Wake, I broke it open, and found not only my five hundred pounds, but two huvdred pounds besides which she had robbed me of at sundry times, together witli watches, rings, and everything of vue which she could put into it.
I was never so delighted in my life. I gave the honest fellow ten guineas for his prudence and fidelity, and asked him why he did not tell me the night I came home. As soon as you saw me, Sir, replied he, you ordered me to follow them. At that moment I forgot the box; but I thought about it all the time I was out. My father concluded with saying, Well my friends, was I not in the right when I said that this was better than the return of Mrs. Barnwell ? This question we all answered in the af. firmative.
When they cannot find the box, I think the affection of the lovers will grow.cool. But as she took some other valuable articles, they may agree tolerably well for the present, When these are disposed of, I am firmly persuaded he will forsake her.
Wickedness frequently meets with its reward in the present life. But if vengeance tarry, and seem to sleep, the time is coming when it will certainly awake, to the everlasting confusion of all those who habitually say, * God hath forgotten ; he hideth his face ; he will never see it. Such persons are as much the objects of pity, as their crimes are of detestation. How miserable must this unhappy woman be, without money, without a character, without humility to enable her to be content with little, without the consolation of believing that she suffers in the cause of righteousness, and, which is worst of all, without a God 'to fly to for refuge, or a just hope that any thing will turn up in her favour either here or hereafter. The poor used to be the objects of her contempt: but whom opon the face of the earth can she now find more poor and wretched than herself? She thought that her schemes were so well concerted that nothing could overturn them, or she would not have had the insolence to write such a letter as she did, to a man who had not merely taken her without a fortune, but who had paid her debts. We all unite in kind respects to my dear aunt. I ever remain her affectionate niece,
DEAR MADAM, YESTERDAY being Mr. Neville's birthday, my father, Mr. Clifford, and Dr. Mildmay, were invited to dinner. About one o'clock, as we were all'sitting in the parlour which looks into the court, we heard a carriage drive in. I could not imagine who was come, as our friends who had been invited were arrived. Looking through the window I saw our dear Eusebia, accompanied by another young lady. At that instant there was a general cry that Eusebia was
In a moment we were all in the court to welcome her return. What a tender and affecting meeting it was may be more easily conceived than' related. Her father clasped her to his bosom, and wept over her, at the same time blessing God that he had lived to see so joyful a day. This meeting was so unexpected, and so welcome, that every one present shed tears of joy. We all asked ques. tions at the same moment. Mr. Clifford, Where she had left his son? Mr. William Neville, How Mr. Bethune and family did ? Mr. Neville, Whether she had had a good voyage, and where she landed? And I, Whether this young lady was not Miss Levi ? Miss Neville could not speak. In her there was such a conflict between remorse and joy, that she could only fall on her dear sister's neck; -they both wept and embraced each other ;-the sight was truly affecting. Nor was Signior Albino less affected: he blessed God that he had permitted him again to behold his dear young lady. She replied to all at once, I thank God for his goodness to me, and to all my dear friends.
This tumult of the passions shortly subsided ; and, when we were all seated, she told us, that having been accidentally informed at New-York of the great mercy which God
had shown to 'her dear father and Signior Albino, and of her brother's marriage, that England to which she had before determined never to return, became the object of her continual desire. I therefore, continued she, told my kind friends Mr. and Mrs. Levi, and my dear sister, (taking hold of the young lady's hand,) that I must go to England.
We all congratulated Miss Levi on her safe arrival among us; and my father said, that next to his own Euse. bia, no person could have arrived whom he should have been more happy to see. Miss Levi replied, that the friends of her beloved sister could not but be dear to her, and that her parents desired their kind respects to the family of her friend.
Dinner being announced, we went into the dining-room, and Mr. Neville remarked that this was the happiest birthday he had ever seen; and that God having in great mercy restored his child to him as it were from the dead, he could now die in peace.
As Eusebia had not answered Mr. Clifford's question concerning his son, Mr. Neville repeated the inquiry ; but we found that she had left New York before his arrival.
The servants did not partake last nor least in the general joy. No sooner likewise was it known that our dear Eusebia was arrived, than the bells of the village church began to ring; and last night all the windows in Thornton were illuminated. Mr. Neville has always had at heart the interest of his tenants and of the poor, and is by all of them greatly beloved.
The company broke up; but my father, Mr. Clifford, and Dr. Mildmay, repeated their visit this morning.
Eusebia presents her kind respects to you, and desires me to say,
that as soon as she shall have recovered from the fatigue of her journey you shall hear from her.
I am, my dear aunt,
From Miss Eusebia Neville to Mrs. Worthington.
DEAR MADAM, I BLESS God that I am again in my father's house, and that I am writing to my dear Mrs. Worthington from my own closet, not as formerly with fear and trembling, but with the full consent and approbation of my family. These are great mereies; but I hope I shall not forget, that the dangers attending prosperity are far greater than those which attend adversity.
My last letter, Madam, informed you of my being at Mrs. Bethune's, with Mrs. Levi and her daughter. We enjoyed much pleasure in this valuable family, and were greatly edified by their conversation and example. I was delightfully situated, and I enjoyed much happiness. In numerous excursions two or three miles round with my young friends, I pointed out to them the wisdom of God in the works of creation; and while we admired the fruitful country around us, and the charming prospects of the xa and Long-Island at a distance, I conversed with them concerning the important truths of divine revelation.
On the Lord's day Mr. Bethune conducted the worship of God in a neat building which had been erected for the purpose. Most of the people in the neighbourhood attended, and some from a considerable distance.
One day Mr. and Mrs. Bethune and Mrs. Levi returned from a walk, accompanied by a Jewish merchant, who had known Mr. and Mrs. Levi in Holland. He dined, and spent the afternoon with us. He attacked Mr. Bethune upon the subject of the trinity.
Pray, Sir, said he, how do you understand these words, In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God? Did not the writer believe that there were at least two Gods, one of whom was with the other? Did not Jesus intimate the same thing when he