that is to say, by her husband, while he lived,for that it was against her will, that we all knew; but the honestneighbours pitied the poor children, they said, heartily; for that theiraunt used them barbarously, and made them little better than servants inthe house to wait upon her and her children, and scarce allowed themclothes fit to wear.
These were, it seems, my eldest and third, which were daughters; thesecond was a son, the fourth a daughter, and the youngest a son.
To finish the melancholy part of this history of my two unhappy girls,she brought me word that as soon as they were able to go out and get anywork they went from her, and some said she had turned them out of doors;but it seems she had not done so, but she used them so cruelly that theyleft her, and one of them went to service to a neighbour's, a little wayoff, who knew her, an honest, substantial weaver's wife, to whom she waschambermaid, and in a little time she took her sister out of theBridewell of her aunt's house, and got her a place too.
This was all melancholy and dull. I sent her then to the weaver's house,where the eldest had lived, but found that, her mistress being dead, shewas gone, and nobody knew there whither she went, only that they heardshe had lived with a great lady at the other end of the town; but theydid not know who that lady was.
These inquiries took us up three or four weeks, and I was not one jotthe better for it, for I could hear nothing to my satisfaction. I senther next to find out the honest man who, as in the beginning of my storyI observed, made them be entertained, and caused the youngest to befetched from the town where we lived, and where the parish officers hadtaken care of him. This gentleman was still alive; and there she heardthat my youngest daughter and eldest son was dead also; but that myyoungest son was alive, and was at that time about seventeen years old,and that he was put out apprentice by the kindness and charity of hisuncle, but to a mean trade, and at which he was obliged to work veryhard.
Amy was so curious in this part that she went immediately to see him,and found him all dirty and hard at work. She had no remembrance at allof the youth, for she had not seen him since he was about two years old;and it was evident he could have no knowledge of her.
However, she talked with him, and found him a good, sensible, mannerlyyouth; that he knew little of the story of his father or mother, and hadno view of anything but to work hard for his living; and she did notthink fit to put any great things into his head, lest it should take himoff of his business, and perhaps make him turn giddy-headed and be goodfor nothing; but she went and found out that kind man, his benefactor,who had put him out, and finding him a plain, well-meaning, honest, andkind-hearted man, she opened her tale to him the easier. She made a longstory, how she had a prodigious kindness for the child, because she hadthe same for his father and mother; told him that she was theservant-maid that brought all of them to their aunt's door, and run awayand left them; that their poor mother wanted bread, and what came of herafter she would have been glad to know. She added that her circumstanceshad happened to mend in the world, and that, as she was in condition,so she was disposed to show some kindness to the children if she couldfind them out.
He received her with all the civility that so kind a proposal demanded,gave her an account of what he had done for the child, how he hadmaintained him, fed and clothed him, put him to school, and at last puthim out to a trade. She said he had indeed been a father to the child."But, sir," says she, "'tis a very laborious, hard-working trade, and heis but a thin, weak boy." "That's true," says he; "but the boy chose thetrade, and I assure you I gave L20 with him, and am to find him clothesall his apprenticeship; and as to its being a hard trade," says he,"that's the fate of his circumstances, poor boy. I could not well dobetter for him."
"Well, sir, as you did all for him in charity," says she, "it wasexceeding well; but, as my resolution is to do something for him, Idesire you will, if possible, take him away again from that place, wherehe works so hard, for I cannot bear to see the child work so very hardfor his bread, and I will do something for him that shall make him livewithout such hard labour."
He smiled at that. "I can, indeed," says he, "take him away, but then Imust lose my L20 that I gave with him."
"Well, sir," said Amy, "I'll enable you to lose that L20 immediately;"and so she put her hand in her pocket and pulls out her purse.
He begun to be a little amazed at her, and looked her hard in the face,and that so very much that she took notice of it, and said, "Sir, Ifancy by your looking at me you think you know me, but I am assured youdo not, for I never saw your face before. I think you have done enoughfor the child, and that you ought to be acknowledged as a father to him;but you ought not to lose by your kindness to him, more than thekindness of bringing him up obliges you to; and therefore there's theL20," added she, "and pray let him be fetched away."
"Well, madam," says he, "I will thank you for the boy, as well as formyself; but will you please to tell me what I must do with him?"
"Sir," says Amy, "as you have been so kind to keep him so many years, Ibeg you will take him home again one year more, and I'll bring you ahundred pounds more, which I will desire you to lay out in schooling andclothes for him, and to pay you for his board. Perhaps I may put him ina condition to return your kindness."
He looked pleased, but surprised very much, and inquired of Amy, butwith very great respect, what he should go to school to learn, and whattrade she would please to put him out to.
Amy said he should put him to learn a little Latin, and then merchants'accounts, and to write a good hand, for she would have him be put to aTurkey merchant.
"Madam," says he, "I am glad for his sake to hear you talk so; but doyou know that a Turkey merchant will not take him under L400 or L500?"
"Yes, sir," says Amy, "I know it very well."
"And," says he, "that it will require as many thousands to set him up?"
"Yes, sir," says Amy, "I know that very well too;" and, resolving totalk very big, she added, "I have no children of my own, and I resolveto make him my heir, and if L10,000 be required to set him up, he shallnot want it. I was but his mother's servant when he was born, and Imourned heartily for the disaster of the family, and I always said, ifever I was worth anything in the world, I would take the child for myown, and I'll be as good as my word now, though I did not then foreseethat it would be with me as it has been since." And so Amy told him along story how she was troubled for me, and what she would give to hearwhether I was dead or alive, and what circumstances I was in; that ifshe could but find me, if I was ever so poor, she would take care of me,and make a gentlewoman of me again.
He told her that, as to the child's mother, she had been reduced to thelast extremity, and was obliged (as he supposed she knew) to send thechildren all among her husband's friends; and if it had not been forhim, they had all been sent to the parish; but that he obliged the otherrelations to share the charge among them; that he had taken two, whereofhe had lost the eldest, who died of the smallpox, but that he had beenas careful of this as of his own, and had made very little difference intheir breeding up, only that when he came to put him out he thought itwas best for the boy to put him to a trade which he might set up inwithout a stock, for otherwise his time would be lost; and that as tohis mother, he had never been able to hear one word of her, no, notthough he had made the utmost inquiry after her; that there went areport that she had drowned herself, but that he could never meet withanybody that could give him a certain account of it.
Amy counterfeited a cry for her poor mistress; told him she would giveanything in the world to see her, if she was alive; and a great dealmore such-like talk they had about that; then they returned to speak ofthe boy.
He inquired of her why she did not seek after the child before, that hemight have been brought up from a younger age, suitable to what shedesigned to do for him.
She told him she had been out of England, and was but newly returnedfrom the East Indies. That she had been out of England, and was butnewly returned, was true, but the latter was false, and was put
in toblind him, and provide against farther inquiries; for it was not astrange thing for young women to go away poor to the East Indies, andcome home vastly rich. So she went on with directions about him, andboth agreed in this, that the boy should by no means be told what wasintended for him, but only that he should be taken home again to hisuncle's, that his uncle thought the trade too hard for him, and thelike.
About three days after this Amy goes again, and carried him the hundredpounds she promised him, but then Amy made quite another figure than shedid before; for she went in my coach, with two footmen after her, anddressed very fine also, with jewels and a gold watch; and there wasindeed no great difficulty to make Amy look like a lady, for she was avery