We yesterday took a pleasant ride; Emilia accompanied us: we went out of the high road to a small village, and stopt at a little farm house to purchase some fruit. We had not been long in a little room near the garden when we heard a confused noise in the kitchen, and I ran out to enquire the cause, leaving my cousin with my sister. A young man, well dressed, ran hastily through the passage; he had been disputing with the farmer, who now allowed him to conceal himself in the garden.
He was scarcely out of sight, when a respectable looking woman ran in, exclaiming, My son is here; I must, I will see him! A mother who demanded her son, and a son who avoids his mother, thought I, this is something uncommon. I felt extreme compassion, which seemed to command me to assist her: who, indeed, could see a distressed mother without being moved? You weep, said I; I cannot see a parent’s tear without concern; has any misfortune befallen your son? Yes, she replied, I am almost without hope; perhaps it is even now too late to save him from ruin. I requested her to go into the parlour to my sister, whilst I spoke to the farmer, and sought for the son. Emilia was surprised to see me enter with a woman apparently distressed, but with compassionate politeness she took her hand, while I reached a chair. I stopt a moment, afraid to ask her any question, lest she should think me impertinent; yet I wished her to speak that I might know what to say to her son. She soon broke silence, and when her tears allowed her to speak articulately, said, “your kindness affects me, I am an unfortunate widow, who formerly knew better days, and never thought I should be obliged to work for the necessaries of life; but the sudden death of my husband, a clergyman, has thrown me destitute on the world. He left me a son, who might have made my life comfortable, if he had not been drawn aside from the path of virtue by bad company. Falling from one error to another, instead of helping to soften my griefs, he has made me feel that my afflictions indeed are very heavy. My intreaties, my threatenings, have all been fruitless; I could not separate him from his thoughtless companions, or induce him to follow any useful employment, and”——here her sobs prevented her from proceeding, when she added, “I have just heard, that he has entered himself as a sailor, and is soon to go on board a man of war which is now preparing for sea. If he would exert himself he might gain an honest livelihood, and be a comfort to his unfortunate mother: it would almost break my heart to part with him; but though I could part with him for his good, I cannot bear that he should go with the companions who seduced him from his duty, and first led him into vice; should he become thoroughly vicious, I should then lose him for ever, and he would bring my grey hairs with sorrow to the grave.”—I could not refrain my tears, Emilia, and even James wept.—No, Madam, said I, he shall not leave you, I know where he is, and I will hasten to him, to awaken him to repentance, and I hastily left the room.
I found the young man in a shed at the bottom of the garden, and the following conversation ensued.
CHARLES.
Shun me not, Sir, I am your friend, at least I desire to be so; I have heard that you wish to hide yourself, and that even from your parent; pardon the liberty I take, I cannot help endeavouring to divert you from your design: it grieves me to see that you avoid your mother.
BRADLEY.
I must not, I cannot see her again; do not betray me, I beseech you, but persuade the master of the house to let me escape without seeing her.
CHARLES.
Could I desire the man to do this! I who have seen your distrest mother weep, and have wept with her!
BRADLEY.