One summer morning, about the tenth year of his retreat, as he lay in bed, he was surprised with hearing the voice, as he thought, of some human creature. He started up and went to the door of his hut, where he saw two sweet infants lying on the ground, hand in hand, and crying.
Of these two pretty babes, the one appeared to be about three, and the other four years of age. Honestus no sooner fixed his eyes on them, than he was struck motionless with surprise, and the children on seeing him ceased to cry, and stood up.
As soon as Honestus was a little recovered from his surprise, he snatched up the children in his arms, tenderly kissed them, and as soon as he had eased his heart with tears, “My good God, (cried he) great and impenetrable are thy ways, and it is the duty of us mortals to submit! What can those two sweet babes have done, to be thus exposed to famine and death in this wild and dreary wood? Can wicked men, more savage than the fierce and brutish inhabitants of African desarts, have brought these children here to perish? My dear babes, how shall I provide for you? Here is no tender mother to hug you to her bosom! no food that you have been used to! what must be the feelings of your parents!” This brought to his mind the fate of his own children, and a flood of tears interrupted his saying any more at present.
While this scene was passing, the two infants threw their arms around the neck of Honestus, put their cheeks to his, and played with his beard. “My dear children, (said he to them) you must be hungry!” He then set them down on a seat in his hut, and instantly making a fire, warmed them some milk, and put into it some brown bread; for he had found the means of growing a little corn.
It afforded some relief to the throbbing heart of Honestus, to see how contentedly and heartily the pretty children ate of his homely fare.—While they were thus refreshing themselves, he made them up the best bed he was able. It consisted, at bottom, of straw; a few leaves of trees over that, and the coverlid was composed of hare-skins sewed together.
As soon as they had finished their repast, Honestus laid them down on the bed he had made, and they soon fell into a sound sleep, which appeared to him a proof of their having been much fatigued. He strewed their bed with wild jessamines and roses, and watched over them like a guardian angel. “How sweet (said he) is the sleep of innocence! These dear babes have no stings of conscience to disturb their repose, nor sins to repent of, no thirst after vanity, pride, or ambition.”
When they awoke, he endeavoured to learn from them what accident had brought them to his hut; but they could give him no other account, than that their uncle had brought them into this wood, and riding from morn to night with them, gave them a piece of gingerbread, and then left them, saying he would come again to them presently; that they sat themselves down by the side of a brook, and there ate what they had, and drank of the stream; that they wandered all night in the wood, and in the morning arrived at his hut, laid themselves down at his door, where he found them.
Though Honestus with great propriety suspected that there was some treachery in the case, yet a ten years absence from the commerce of the world had so effectually weaned him of every wish to converse with mankind, that he could not prevail on himself to leave his hut, to penetrate the wood, and accompany the children to any inhabited village.
However, he acted the part of a parent to them: he gave them the best food he could procure, he instructed them in reading, and taught them, in particular, to pray to God morning and evening, and to return him thanks even for the scanty meals they received. He washed them every morning and evening, at his spring; he taught them to call every thing by its proper name, whether beast, bird, or vegetable; and, in that very early period of their lives, made them acquainted with such important truths, as the children of the great and powerful seldom attain to. See how he is teaching them to read.