From Captain Percival Flint, to Miss Cowley.
Sensible, my dear Madam, that in communicating to you the painful circumstances of my disastrous life, I should unavoidably renew those feelings, which it is both my duty and my interest to suppress, I take this method of placing before you the sorrows and disappointments which have eventually made Mary Howard an object for benevolence and pity. Your generous offers of protection to this amiable orphan, have been so enforced on my consideration, by the genuine language of truth and humanity, that I should despise myself were I capable of doubting their sincerity; but Percival Flint cannot forget his own honour. Miss Cowley's connections must be convinced, that no advantage has been taken of her munificent spirit and feeling heart. It is requisite they should know, that, in the present object of her favour, there is both innocence and virtue as spotless as her own; and that in the poverty of her condition she may at all times find consolation and strength, by contemplating the worth of those who gave her life. You will therefore have the goodness to send the inclosed manuscript to your friends, and suffer them to regulate a generosity, unbounded as the source from whence it flows! My niece is indeed the child of Providence, and under every event I trust she will be worthy of its favour. To secure to her a friend like yourself, is my fervent prayer; but her claims must be established, before she can be the object of your care.
I remain, Madam,
Your obliged humble servant,
Percival Flint.
Memoirs of the Flint Family.
My father, Mr. Oliver Flint, by a diligent and persevering attention, and a constant residence on his estate in Jamaica, not only enlarged his property and increased his wealth, but also acquired so confirmed a predilection for the place in which his prosperity had been always flourishing, that he imagined the island of Jamaica to be the most healthy spot in the habitable globe; and it was a frequent topic of conversation with my mother, to prove to her, that the air was salutary, and that no one died at Jamaica, whom intemperance did not conduct to the grave. My mother was sensible that her health had suffered in this "terrestrial paradise," and that it was hourly sinking into debility; but she left to her countenance the office of confuting my father's arguments, and suffered in silence. A very dangerous fever with which my father in his fiftieth year was attacked, in spite of his sobriety and precautions, effected a change in his opinions, and probably preserved to my mother some years of existence in this world. Jamaica was no longer conceived to be without the inconveniences of its tropical situation, and my father hastened his preparations to leave it.
Our family, at the period we embarked for England, consisted of my brother Oliver, my sister Lucretia, and myself, who was the youngest.
My mother, in her wish to return to England, had been governed by motives of advantage to her children, as powerfully as by a consideration for her own health. The uncontrolled indulgence which my father granted us, bounded his views; our improvement constituted no part of his cares; and the consequence was, that Oliver and Lucretia, to use his own words, had never been ill a day in their lives. I was born less robust, and was reared with more difficulty. My mother, in her tender cares, kept me in her sight, and my mind was formed to docility, and my sports to more quietness, than suited the vigorous Oliver, and the romp my sister. I thus became my mother's amusement; and to her taste I am indebted for my love of literature and science. Our voyage was pleasant, though tedious. Our accommodations were easy, for the vessel was my father's; and in the delights of the deck, I lost, by my activity, the name of "Miss Molly," which my father, though with good humour, had taught my brother and sister to give me. My mother appeared to have left her complaints in "the wholesomest spot in the world;" she hourly became more cheerful; and my father confessed that the sea breeze was equal to the air of the plantation. We settled in London; and a time was given to repose and amusements; when, again my mother's cheek faded, and I took the alarm. Her maid-servant told me, as a secret, that we should soon have a nursery and a cradle to provide, and that her master was looking out for a country-house, in order that my mother might be quiet. This plan was effected; the family removed to a handsome, spacious house near Chelsea; and such was my father's solicitude for the quiet of his wife, that he placed Oliver, then thirteen, in a commercial academy in the city; Lucretia in a boarding-school; and in conformity with the wishes of his wife, who was not to be contradicted, I was sent to the Charter-house.
My father, who loved children, and coveted them with as much avidity as he did money, received the promised blessing with transports of joy; and my sister Mary's birth was commemorated as the renewal of his own life. With fond delight he shewed the infant to his friends, and exultingly pointed out to them the promises of a face which was, indeed, angelic! She did not disappoint these early presages. As she advanced in age, she exhibited a form and face which perfectly corresponded with a temper of unequalled sweetness; and with such graces, it was no wonder she was beloved even to adulation by my father, and the whole house.
An artist of some celebrity, and more skill, requested permission to take her picture. She was then in her eighth year, and the painter succeeded so happily, that he gained credit by exhibiting his work, and induced my father to have a full-length portrait of my mother, with Mary. This picture was my father's pride; an engraving was made from it, and scores of prints were sent to Jamaica, in order to convince our friends there, that the elaborate praises they had heard of this paragon of nature, did not exceed her beauty.