"My dear young master," said he, "I am almost broken-hearted; a trifle of money would engage the sergeant to give him up, if I could get it before they take him to the magistrate at the next town; and he, poor boy! desires no better, for they had made him drink more than he is accustomed to do, or he never would have thought of leaving me: the moment he was sober he repented of it; but it is too late—I have no money, and they will soon be gone. Wretched old man that I am! what will become of me?"

"Pray do not grieve so, old John," said William; "I will return to my papa directly, and I am very sure he will not leave you in distress. I will be back again in half an hour, so pray be comforted—your son shall not be taken from you." And away he went, fully intending to do as he had said he would; but unfortunately William was not to be depended upon, for he continually deferred to another time what ought to be done at the moment, and trifled away hours in which he had engaged to render little services to people who depended upon his promises.

It is scarcely to be credited, that, anxious as he appeared to relieve the poor old man's distress, he should, before he got half way to his papa's house, if not forget the errand on which he was going with so much seeming expedition, at least suffer a new object to draw off his attention from the principal part of it; and that he should accept of an invitation to dine, without once recollecting, that, unless the business could be settled immediately, the recruiting party would have left the village, and poor John would be abandoned to misery and distress.

Meeting with two young gentlemen who lived in the neighbourhood, and being invited by them to go and dine at their house, their servant was dispatched, whilst they amused themselves in the wood; to ask his papa's leave; and as it was readily granted, and he did not return till evening, the recruiting party had left the village many hours before old John had the means sent him of procuring his son's discharge.

William was extremely grieved when he perceived the sad effects his neglect had occasioned, the agony of the poor old man, and the anger of his papa, who, after threatening to send him immediately back to school, took this opportunity of making him recollect how many times he had brought trouble and distress upon different persons by the unpardonable fault he was continually committing, through his trifling, unsteady disposition, and assured him, that if he suffered so bad a custom to grow up with him, he would be pointed out as a man on whose word no one could place the smallest confidence, and whose promises were of no value—a frivolous, despicable character, with whom no worthy people would associate. He then ordered his chaise to be got ready, and went over to the market town; the magistrate was his particular friend, and he had the pleasure (though not without some difficulty) of freeing the young man, and of sending him home to comfort and support his aged and afflicted father.


THE COUSINS.

Priscilla lost her mother when she was very young: her father was in the East Indies, and she was taken home by his sister, Mrs. Hamilton, who loved her for his sake, and shewed her the greatest kindness and attention; but her daughters, Emily and Lucy, were not both equally kind to their cousin. Lucy was very fond of her, but Emily was jealous and envious, and could not bear the marks of tenderness bestowed upon her by her mother.

Priscilla had a most affectionate heart, and would cry for hours together, when she thought she had done any thing to make her cousin angry; which she imagined must certainly be the case (though she could not recollect what it could possibly be), for it never entered into her head that any one could be displeased with her, when she had done nothing to offend them, and little suspected, that when she was praised by her aunt for her even temper and constant good humour, for her attention to her lessons, and the progress she made in every thing she undertook to learn, her kind and gentle manner towards the servants, and her charity and humanity to her fellow-creatures in distress: she had no idea that those praises increased the dislike which the ill-natured Emily had conceived to her the moment she came into the house, who, instead of endeavouring to imitate her good qualities, took every method in her power to cast a shade over them, and to fill every one's head with tales to her disadvantage.

As they grew older, Emily's dislike to her cousin increased every hour, as did the amiable Priscilla's endeavours to soften it by every mean she could employ, and by seeking every opportunity of obliging her. If Emily had any work to do, of which she appeared tired, Priscilla was sure to be ready to finish it for her: if she wished for a nosegay, Priscilla would search over the whole village till she had procured the prettiest and sweetest flowers to make one for her; but all was to no purpose—she hated her the more for the trouble she took to please her.