Contrary to the hopes of the children, the following morning was
extremely wet, so that it was impossible they could walk to the cottage.
They had, however, the pleasure of hearing that the poor woman had had a
comfortable night's rest, and that she was so much refreshed, as to be
able to sit up whilst Jane made her bed.
Several days elapsed without affording them their wished-for pleasure.
This put their patience to a severe trial, as they were very anxious to
hear the poor woman's story, and to make the dutiful and affectionate
little Susan, the present their industry had prepared for her. Still,
being fully convinced that impatience would not hasten the
accomplishment of their wishes, they bore their disappointment with the
greatest good-humour; and turning their attention to other objects,
spent the time, which would otherwise have passed heavily away, in
cheerful and improving occupations.
They began now each day to watch anxiously for the arrival of the
postman, and on the sixth morning after Edward's departure, Emily
received from him the following letter:
_Plymouth, Sept. 30, 1814._
"MY DEAR SISTER,
"If I had not bound myself by a promise to write to you, I am sure you
would have received, by this post, a letter from me. Now I am at a
distance from home, it is the only means of communication afforded me.
I long for you every moment, to enjoy with me the many pleasures Mr.
Dormer's kindness provides for me, and which would all be doubled, could
you each share them with me.
"I have just thought of a riddle:--'What is that, which, the more you
divide it, the greater it grows?' You will guess in a minute that I
mean _pleasure_; for indeed, my dear Emily, at this distance from you
all, when each delight is unshared by those I so dearly love, I seem to
enjoy myself only by halves.
"I shall not detain you with a long account of my journey: we have read
together a description of the delightful scenes in the south and west of
England, I should therefore tell you nothing new, were I to describe
them even in the most minute manner. It is enough to say, that, although
my expectations were highly missed, I was not disappointed with the
scenery.
"Mr. Dormer, last Saturday, promised me, that if the wind should prove
favourable, he would take me on Monday to see the Eddystone Lighthouse.
I was, as you may suppose, extremely delighted with the idea, and the
moment I was out of bed in the morning, ran to the window, and very
anxiously looked at the weather-cock, as my fate depended upon the point
from which the wind should blow. To my great joy, I found it full north-
west, which is the most favourable point of the compass for such an
expedition.
"Whilst we were at breakfast, Mr. Dormer gave me some account of this
wonderful building. It is constructed upon the Eddystone Rock. Before
the construction of this lighthouse, many valuable vessels were wrecked
upon this spot.
"The first lighthouse was built by a gentleman of the name of
Winstanley. He was a very singular man, and had a peculiar turn for
mechanics, which he frequently introduced into his furniture, in such a
manner as to surprise, and often even to terrify, his visitors. He lived
at Littlebury in Essex. In one of his rooms there was an old slipper,
lying, as it were, carelessly upon the floor; if you gave it a kick with
your foot, up started a ghastly-looking figure before you. If you sat
down in one particular chair, although there was nothing in its
appearance to distinguish it from others, a couple of arms would
immediately clasp you, so as to render it impossible to disentangle
yourself, till some one, who understood the trick, chose to set you at
liberty. In his garden was an arbour, by the side of a canal, in which,
if you unguardedly took a seat, forthwith you were sent afloat into the
middle of the water, before you were at all aware; from whence it was
impossible to escape, till the manager restored you to your former
situation on dry ground.
"Mr. Dormer showed me a print of the lighthouse, which Mr. Winstanley
erected upon the rock. It must have been a whimsical-looking thing; more
like a fanciful Chinese temple, in my opinion, than an edifice that
would have to encounter the boisterous waves of the angry ocean. He
began the building in 1696, and it was four years before it was
completed. In 1703 it was much damaged, and stood in need of great
repair. Mr. Winstanley went himself to Plymouth, to superintend the
work. Some gentleman mentioning it to him, that they thought it was not
built upon a plan long to withstand the dreadful storms to which, from
its exposed situation, it would be subject, this presumptuous man
replied, that he was so well assured of the strength of his building, he
should only wish to be there during the most dreadful storm that ever
blew under the face of heaven, that he might see what effect it would
have upon his structure. He was, alas! too fatally gratified in this
presumptuous wish; for while he was there, with his workmen and light-
keeper, on the 26th of November, one of the most tremendous storms
began, which was ever known in great Britain. On the 27th, when the
violence was somewhat abated, many went to look anxiously for the
lighthouse; but not a remnant of it was remaining, nor were any of the
unfortunate people, nor ever any of the materials, ever afterward found.
"The ravages occasioned by this tremendous tempest, were by no means
confined to the Eddystone. In London, the loss sustained by it was
calculated at one million sterling, and upwards of eight thousand
persons were supposed to be drowned in the several inundations it
occasioned. On one level, fifteen thousand sheep were lost; and a
person counted seventeen thousand trees blown up by the roots, in Kent
alone. What a happy thing is it for us, my dear sister, that these
dreadful convulsions of nature are not more frequent in our favoured
island. "Three years after the destruction of Mr. Winstanley's work, a
similar one was undertaken by a Mr. Rudyerd. It was built of wood and
upon a plan very different from the former, without any unnecessary
ornament, and well calculated to resist the fury of the waves.
"Mr. Dormer related to me an anecdote of Louis the Fourteenth, king of
France, which, as I think his conduct on the occasion much to his
credit, I shall send to you. He was at war with the English at the time
this building was begun; during its progress, a French privateer took
the men at work on the rock prisoners, together with their tools, and
carried them to France. The captain, no doubt, expected a handsome
reward for his achievement. Whilst the captives lay in prison, the
transaction reached the ears of Louis: he immediately ordered the
prisoners to be released, and the men who had captured them to be put in
their place, declaring, that although he was at war with England, he was
not at war with all mankind. He therefore directed the men to be sent
back to their work with presents; observing, that the Eddystone
Lighthouse was so situated, as to be of equal service to all nations who
had occasion to navigate the channel which divides England from France.
"I do not know, my dear Emily, whether you will feel as much interested
as myself, in the fate of this lighthouse; but I scarcely ever recollect
to have been more delighted, than with this ornament, and well
calculated to resist the fury of the waves. "Mr. Dormer related to me an
anecdote of Louis the Fourteenth, king of France, which, as I think his
conduct on the occasion much to his credit, I shall send to you. He was
at war with the English at the time this building was begun; during its
progress, a French privateer took the men at work on the rock prisoners,
together with their tools, and carried them to France. The captain, no
doubt, expected a handsome reward for his achievement. Whilst the
captives lay in prison, the transaction reached the ears of Louis: he
immediately ordered the prisoners to be released, and the men who had
captured them to be put in their place, declaring, that although he was
at ware with England, he was not at war with all mankind. He therefore
directed the men to be sent back to their work with presents; observing,
that the Eddystone Lighthouse was so situated, as to be of equal service
to all nations who had occasion to navigate the channel which divides
England from France.
"I do not know, my dear Emily, whether you will feel as much interested
as myself, in the fate of this lighthouse but I scarcely ever recollect
to have been more delighted, than with this expedition, notwithstanding
my having been in considerable danger, as I shall tell you in its proper
place. The dread of that is, however, now over, and the information I
have gained, upon subject of which I was before totally ignorant, will,
I think, be a constant source of pleasure to me. I shall venture to give
you another anecdote or two respecting the lighthouse; for as our tastes
are, on many subjects, very similar, I am inclined to hope my account
will not weary your patience, though I sometimes fear, the lively little
Louisa may think I might have chosen a more interesting topic.
"But to proceed with my relation. For many years after the establishment
of the second lighthouse, it was attended by two men only; and, indeed,
the duty required no more. This duty consisted in watching, alternately,
four hours, to snuff and renew the candles. But it happened that one of
the men was taken ill and died, and notwithstanding the Eddystone flag
was hoisted as a signal of distress, yet the weather was so boisterous
for some time, as to prevent any boat from getting near enough to speak
to them. In this dilemma, the living man found himself in a very awkward
situation, being apprehensive, that if he committed the dead body to the
deep, (the only way in which he could dispose of it,) he might be
charged with his murder. This induced him, for some time, to let the
corpse remain, in hopes that the boat might be able to land, and relieve
him from his distress. In the mean time, the body became, as it might
naturally be supposed that it would do, extremely offensive, and the
poor man's sufferings were, as you may imagine, very great. He, however,
bore it till some sailors effected their landing, when, with their
assistance, it was committed to the waves. This unpleasant circumstance
induced the proprietors afterwards to employ a third man; so that in
case of any future accident of the same nature, there might be
constantly one to supply his place. I should not much like a life of
such confinement, where the troubled waves must be almost one's only
companion. The tastes of mankind are, however, various, and it is very
well they are so:--'Many men, many minds,' as our copy says. Ferdinand
wanted an explanation of its meaning the other day. I can tell him a
little anecdote, very much to my present subject, and to that point
also.
"A skipper was once carrying out a shoe-maker in his boat, to be a
light-keeper at the Eddystone. 'How happens it, friend,' said he, 'that
you should choose to go out to be a light-keeper, when you can, on
shore, as I am told, earn half-a-crown or three shillings a day, by
making leathern pipes; whereas, the light-keeper's salary is but twenty-
five pounds a year, which is scarcely ten shillings a week.' To this the
shoemaker replied: 'I am going, bcause I don't like confinement:' Thus
you see, my dear Ferdinand, what different ideas different people attach
to the same word.
"I am now coming to a very melancholy part of my narrative, which is,
the fatal catastrophe that occasioned the destruction of this celebrated
building.
"About two o'clock in the morning, on the second of December, 1755, when
one of the light-keepers went into the lantern to snuff the candles, as
usual, he found the whole in a smoke, and upon opening the door of the
lantern into the balcony, a flame instantly burst from the inside of the
cupola. He immediately endeavoured to alarm his companions; but they
being in bed and asleep, were some time before they came to his
assistance.
"There were always some leathern buckets kept on the spot, and a tub of
water in the lantern. He therefore attempted to extinguish the flames in
the cupola, by throwing water from the balcony, upon the outside cover
of lead. As soon as his companions came to his assistance, he encouraged
them to fetch up water in the leathern buckets from the sea; which, you
may suppose, they could not do very quickly, as the fire was at so great
a height. You may judge of their horror, in perceiving that the flames
gained strength every moment, in spite of all their efforts to
extinguish them. The poor men were obliged to throw the water full four
yards higher than their heads, to render it of the least service. A most
remarkable accident put an end to the exertions of the unfortunate man
who first discovered the calamity. As he was looking very attentively,
with his mouth a little way open, a quantity of lead, melted by the heat
of the flames, suddenly rushed like a torrent from the roof, and fell,
not only upon his head, face, and shoulders, but even down his throat,
and into his stomach. This increased the terror and dismay of these
wretched men, who now saw no means of escaping. They found it impossible
to subdue the raging element, and, in dreadful alarm, retreated from the
immediate scene of horror, into one of the rooms below; and continued
descending, from room to room, as the fire, with constantly increasing
fury, advanced over their head. Early in the morning, the conflagration
was perceived by some fishermen in Plymouth Sound, who soon spread the
alarm: boats were instantly sent out to the relief of the unhappy
sufferers at the Eddystone. They were almost stupified with terror, and
were discovered sitting in a hole under the rock. All three were
conveyed in safety to the shore; but the poor man who had swallowed the
melted lead, continued to grow worse and worse, and in ten or eleven
days, he expired in great agonies. Although he had always himself been
positive that he had actually swallowed the melted metal, his physician
could scarcely believe it possible. After his death, his body was
opened, in order to ascertain the fact, and a large lump of lead,
weighing seven ounces and five drams, was actually found in his stomach.
It is a most extraordinary circumstance, but Mr. Dormer says it is so
well attested, as to be beyond all possibility of doubt.
"The present lighthouse, the sight of which has afforded me so much
pleasure, was begun in 1756, by Mr. Smeaton, and completed in little
more than three years. It is built of stone, and is reckoned quite a
master-piece of architecture. Hitherto it has resisted the utmost
violence, both of the winds and waves, and seems likely to stand so long
as the rock itself endures.
"I am amused myself on Saturday evening, with taking a small drawing of
this wonderful tower, from a large print belonging to our landlord. I
shall enclose it in this letter, as I think you will like to see a
representation of it.
"But it is time, my dear Emily, to give you some account of our little
voyage. And now I fancy I see you all attention. My curious sister,
Louisa, has laid aside her work to listen the more profoundly; and the
ears and eyes of the philosophic little Ferdinand, are opened even wider
than usual, that he may not lose a single word of my narrative.
"The day could not have been more delightful, nor the wind more
favourable; and if I shone in poetical description, here would be a fine
field for its display. I could tell you how brilliantly the sun-beams
danced upon the waters, and with how delightful a motion the vessel
glided lightly over its surface, as our sails swelled with the wind; but
all this I shall leave for your own fancies to picture. It is sufficient
for me to say, I completely enjoyed my short voyage.
"A singular circumstance occurred soon after we left land. [Footnote:
This circumstance actually occurred to the passengers on board the
Argyle steam-boat, in the autumn of the year 1814.]--A poor little lark
was pursued, at no great distance from our vessel, by a merciless hawk;
the little creature continued, for some time, with surprising dexterity,
to elude the grasp of its intended destroyer. At length, quite exhausted
by its efforts, it alighted on our boat. I incautiously ran to catch it,
purposing to shield it from the threatened danger. Not, however,
comprehending my design, the terrified bird again took flight, and was
again pursued by its pitiless foe. Half a dozen crows from a
neighbouring wood, generously enlisted themselves on the weaker side,
and at length succeeded in driving completely away the formidable
antagonist; whilst the poor little lark again sought shelter on our
deck, and escaped the threatened danger. This was the only adventure
that befell us on our way to the rock. The landing was very hazardous;
at least, it appeared so to me, who am unaccustomed to such expeditions.
"I have already told you so many particulars of the Eddystone, that
little remains for me to add upon the subject. I was extremely pleased
with the opportunity of viewing this wonderful structure, in company
with so well-informed a friend as Mr. Dormer, who took the greatest
pains to explain to me the uses of its several parts. I thought of the
poor sufferers whom I have already mentioned, as exposed to the raging
of the flames; and trembled for my own safety, as the angry billows
dashed against the rocks, whilst their hollow roar seemed to me, who am
not accustomed to the tremendous sound, to threaten instant destruction.
The light-keepers told us, that, on the morning after a storm, the waves
dashed above a hundred feet over the top of the building, completely
concealing it by the spray.
"After having spent some time in admiring this wonderful monument of
human ingenuity, we returned to our boat in high spirits, and little
anticipating the dangers that awaited us.
"About half an hour after we left the rock, the gathering clouds
threatened an approaching tempest; and what is termed a land-swell,
dashed about our little bark, and terrified me most sadly. Mr. Dormer
was himself alarmed, but he acted on this occasion with his usual
fortitude and presence of mind. Some of the gentlemen on board, who had
been more accustomed than I to the boisterous element, laughed at my
fears, and called me a fresh-water sailor. The storm increased, and with
it my terrors. I thought of my dear parents; of you, my beloved Emily;
of Louisa, Ferdinand, and our dear little Sophy. I felt scarcely a hope
that I should ever see you more. My love for you would, I thought, be
soon buried with myself in the stormy deep. I do not like to think of
those moments of horror. Heaven, in mercy, preserved us through the
danger, and guided us in safety to the shore. Do you not remember the
description of a storm, in the "Odyssey," which we were reading last
week. I thought it, at the time, a striking passage, but having now
experienced myself, the horrors of such a scene, I can discover in it
additional beauties:
"Meanwhile the god, whose hand the thunder forms, Drives clouds on
clouds, and blackens heaven with storms! Wide o'er the waste the rage of
Boreas sweeps, And night rush'd headlong on the shaded deeps."
"What a long letter have I written to you, Emily. Pray give my duty to
my dear father and mother, kiss little Sophy for me, and give my kind
love to Louisa and Ferdinand. I long to see you again. Farewell, dear
Emily.
"Your affectionate
"EDWARD."
"Oh, what a delightful letter!" cried Louisa, as Emily concluded it:
"but only think of his being exposed to such a dreadful storm. Dear,
dear Edward, how thankful I am that you escaped in safety."
The moistened eye of his tender parent, directed with pious gratitude to
heaven, silently spoke her feelings.
"Edward is quite mistaken in thinking that I should not feel interest in
his account of the lighthouse," continued Louisa; "for I think every
thing he has mentioned extremely entertaining, and even feel
disappointed that he has not given a more particular account of the
present building."
"I believe, my dear," said her mother, "I can supply you with all the
information you wish, as I have frequently heard your father speak upon
the subject."
_Louisa_. Thank you, mamma. Then, first of all, I want to know who Mr.
Smeaton was, who built it.
_Mrs. B._ He was, originally, a philosophical instrument maker; and in
consequence of his having made many inventions and improvements in
mechanics, he was chosen a Fellow of the Royal Society, in 1753. Not
finding the business in which he first embarked likely to afford him
much emolument, he turned his attention to architecture, and was
recommended to Lord Macclesfield as a very suitable person to attempt
the re-building of the Eddystone Lighthouse. His lordship bore a strong
testimony to his ability, in declaring he had never known him to
undertake anything, which he did not complete to the perfect
satisfaction of those who employed him.
_Louisa_. This was speaking highly in his favour, indeed. I should think
it would make the proprietors very anxious to have him undertake the
work.
_Mrs. B._ It did, my dear. He was at that time engaged in business in
Scotland, where a friend wrote to him, merely informing him, in a few
words, that he was made choice of, as a proper person to rebuild the
Eddystone Lighthouse. Mr. Smeaton not understanding that the former
building had been totally consumed, imagined he was only required to
repair or rebuild the upper part of it; or, perhaps, that he was merely
requested to give in his proposals, with other candidates. The
information of his friend, therefore, occasioned him no great joy; nor
was he much inclined to have any thing to do in the business, not
thinking it prudent to leave the affairs, which at that time engaged his
attention, upon an uncertainty.
_Louisa_. How much disappointed the proprietors must have been, if he
sent them this answer.
_Mrs. B._ He first prudently wrote a letter to his friend, enquiring
what was the extent of the mischief the former lighthouse had sustained,
and whether he was actually appointed to make the repairs. To this he
received an answer still more laconic than the first letter had been:
"It is a total demolition; and, as Nathan said unto David, thou art the
man."
_Louisa_. What an odd man that friend must have been. I suppose this
second letter pleased him highly, and that he was willing to undertake
the business.
_Mrs. B._ Yes, my dear; he regarded it as a high honour to be considered
competent to so great a work, and having finished the business in which
he was engaged in the north, he set off for London, where he arrived on
the 23d of February, 1756. Mr. Smeaton had an interview with the
proprietors, when it was determined that he should go to Plymouth; and,
after seeing the rock, and examining the plans upon which the two former
buildings had been erected, should communicate his ideas to the
proprietors. They seemed to wish to have it again constructed with wood;
Mr. Smeaton himself, on the contrary, greatly preferred stone.
_Louisa_. I should think stone would be much best: it could not then be
burnt down again; but I suppose it would be a great deal dearer than
wood.
_Mrs. B._ Exactly so, Louisa. However, the gentlemen concerned in the
business, were too generous to let this influence their determination;
therefore, when convinced that it would not only be stronger constructed
of stone, but also more speedily erected, they did not hesitate a
moment, but determined that it should be rebuilt in the very best
manner; and such was their confidence in Mr. Smeaton's honour and
integrity, that they left the accomplishment of the plan entirely to
him.
_Louisa_. In what month did he begin his work, mamma?
_Mrs. B._ On the 23d of July, 1756, he set sail for the rock; but there
was a great deal to be done before the erection of the building could be
begun. First, marking out and preparing the rock, and contriving such
cements as would not be affected by water.
_Ferdinand._ I was wondering how that would be managed.
_Mrs. B._ Mr. Smeaton was indefatigable in his experiments upon that
subject, and at length succeeded, in a manner equal to his most sanguine
expectations.
_Louisa_. I long to hear when he began the building.
_Mrs. B._ Have a little patience, my love, and you shall hear. Towards
the end of May, 1757, every thing was in readiness for the commencement
of the work. The comfort and accommodation of the light-keepers was, in
this building, most kindly considered. In the one constructed by Mr.
Rudyerd, the bed-rooms had been in the lower part, and the kitchen at
top; but the beds were, in that case, very apt to be damp. In the
present instance, the chambers are contrived above the kitchen; the
funnel for the smoke from which, passes through them, and by this means
they are kept constantly warm and comfortable. I cannot give you an
account of the whole admirable arrangement of this building, nor do I
think it would be at all interesting to you if I could; you will be
satisfied to know, that on the 9th of October, 1759, it was completed,
without loss of life or limb to any person concerned in it. Not a
single accident occurred during the whole time, by which the work could
be said to have been retarded. The time that elapsed, between the first
stroke upon the rock, and leaving the lighthouse completed, was three
years, nine weeks, and three days.
_Louisa_. Thank you, dear mamma. Now I think I know all about it; and
I feel quite as well pleased, as if I had actually been at the
Eddystone, and heard the billows roar, and seen the waves dash over it,
in the tremendous manner Edward says they sometimes do.
"I am much better pleased than I should be under those circumstances,"
said Emily, whose gentle nature preferred the calm of domestic life, to
any other scene. But Ferdinand thought it would certainly be more
interesting to see and hear for himself, under all circumstances, than
to receive the most eloquent description from the lips of another.
"And now, pray, mamma," added he, "what does Edward mean by calling me a
philosopher. I believe he only intended to laugh at me, and that I do
not much like. Little boys cannot be philosophers, can they?"
"I shall answer your question by another," returned his mother: "Can
little boys love to acquire wisdom?"
"O yes, mamma, certainly," said Edward, "for I love nothing so well as
hearing new things, and improving myself."
"The word philosophy," my dear, "is formed from two Greek terms, which
signify a lover of wisdom. You have heard your father speak of
Pythagoras?"
_Ferdinand._ Yes, I have, mamma. I heard him once say, that he was the
first who discovered the solar system.
_Mrs. B._ Do you understand the meaning of the term you have just used,
my dear?
_Ferdinand_. It means, the revolution of the earth and other planets
round the sun, I believe, mamma.
_Mrs. B._ True. This was discovered, as your father has informed you,
by Pythagoras, several hundred years before the birth of our Saviour.
This great man was as humble as he was wise; and when the appellation of
_sophist_ was given him, which signifies a wise man, he requested rather
to be called a _philosopher_, or _lover_ of wisdom.
_Ferdinand_. I like Pythagoras very much, mamma; I wish you would be so
kind as to tell me some more about him.
_Mrs. B._ That I will do most willingly, my dear. I see the sun is
breaking out, and I believe we may venture to take a little walk. Go
and put on your cloaks and bonnets, Emily and Louisa, and we will talk
about Pythagoras as we go along.
The children were soon equipped, and joined their mother in the garden.
The plantations were extensive, and as the clouds still looked dark and
lowering, they did not venture to extend their ramble beyond them.
Mrs. Bernard aroused them for some time, with relating the most
interesting particulars of the life of Pythagoras.
Louisa thought his forbidding his pupils to speak in his presence, till
they had listened five years to his instructions, was not a good plan;
declaring, that she should learn very little, were she not allowed to
ask the meaning of such things as she did not understand, and to mention
her own notions upon various subjects.
"The plan adopted by Pythagoras," said Mrs. Bernard, "was calculated to
teach his pupils those amiable virtues--diffidence, humility, and
forbearance. These charms give a brilliant lustre to every other
acquirement; indeed, they are so necessary, that knowledge without them,
far from improving a character, is apt to produce conceit and arrogance,
which are great failings in all, but particularly disgusting in youth."
Louisa fully agreed to the truth of her mother's remark, and was going
on with the conversation upon the character of the philosopher, when her
attention was attracted by her favourite tortoise. He was creeping
slowly out of his hole, to enjoy the sun-beams, which at this instant,
with splendour, shone through the dark cloud, that a moment before had
obscured his rays.
"Mamma, does not the tortoise live a great many years?" enquired Louisa.
"It does, my dear," returned Mrs. Bernard: "I was reading an account in
the 'Monthly Magazine,' this morning, of one which lives in the garden
of the Bishop of Peterborough, and is known to have been two hundred and
sixteen years in the country."
"Two hundred and sixteen years!" exclaimed Louisa, with astonishment:
"why that is almost as long as the patriarchs lived of old."
"Oh no, indeed, you are mistaken there, Louisa," said Ferdinand; "for I
read in the Bible, this morning, that Methuselah, who was the oldest man
ever known, lived nine hundred and sixty-nine years."
Mr. Bernard at this instant joined them, and in conversation equally
instructive and entertaining, the time passed pleasantly away, till the
dinner-bell summoned them to the house.
"Several days elapsed without any remarkable occurrence; frequent
showers prevented their visiting the poor cottager, whose health
gradually recovered, under the kind care of her excellent nurse Jane,
and the tender attentions of her little Susan. On the day fixed for
Edward's return, the two children were again taken to their humble home,
and rejoiced their mother by their improved appearance.
Each hour was anxiously counted, as the time fixed for his arrival
approached. Ferdinand, Louisa, and little Sophy, stationed themselves
at the window. Anxiously they watched every carriage that drove past
the gate; at length, a cry of joy announced his arrival. In an instant
he was folded in the arms of his tender parents, and alternately
embraced, with the greatest affection, by his brother and sisters. Every
individual rejoiced at his return. And thus restored to the bosom of
DOMESTIC PLEASURE, we leave him, for the present, tranquil and happy.