hardships and difficulties innumerable, and acquired, as my father had foretold, a little wisdom at the price of a considerable quantity of blood. When the war was ended, I found myself nearly in the same situation as I began, except the present of my friendly Americans, which I turned into money and remitted to England. I therefore now began to feel my military enthusiasm abated, and, having permission to leave the service, I embraced that opportunity of returning to my country, fully determined to spend the remainder of my life amid my family and friends. I found my father and mother still living, who received me in the fondest manner. I then employed the little fund I had acquired to stock a farm, which I hired in the neighbourhood, and where I imagined my care and industry would be sufficient to insure us all a comfortable subsistence. Some little time after, I married a virtuous and industrious young woman, the mother of the unfortunate children who are so much indebted to your bounty. For some time I made a shift to succeed tolerably well, but at length, the distresses of my country increasing, I found myself involved in the deepest poverty. Several years of uncommon severity destroyed my cattle (which is the chief sup
port of the Highlanders), and rotted away the scanty crops, which were to supply us with food, upon the ground. I cannot accuse myself of either voluntary unthriftiness or neglect of my business, but there are some situations in which it seems impossible for human exertion to stem the torrent of misfortune. But wherefore should I give pain to such kind and worthy benefactors, by a detail of all the miseries which I and many of my poor countrymen have endured? I will therefore only mention that, after having suffered, I think, every distress which human nature is equal to support—after having seen my tender parents, and last, my dear unfortunate wife, perish by the hardships of our situation—I took the resolution of abandoning for ever a country which seemed incapable of supporting its inhabitants. I thought that the milder climate and more fertile soil of America might, perhaps, enable a wretched wanderer, who asked no more than food for his starving children, to drag on, a little longer, a miserable life. With this idea I sold the remainder of my stock, and, after having paid my landlord, I found I had just enough to transport myself and family into eternal banishment. I reached a seaport town, and embarked with my children on board a ship that was setting sail for Philadelphia. But the same ill-fortune seemed still to accompany my steps; for a dreadful storm arose, which, after having tossed our vessel during several days, wrecked us at length upon the coast. All the crew indeed escaped, and with an infinite difficulty I saved these dear but miserable infants who now accompany me; but when I reflect on my situation, in a distant country, without re
sources, friends, or hopes, I am almost inclined to think that we might all have been happier in the bosom of the ocean."
Here the Highlander finished his story, and all the company were affected by the recital of his distresses. They all endeavoured to comfort him with the kindest expressions and promises of assistance; but Miss Simmons, after she had with some difficulty composed herself enough to speak, asked the man if his name was not Andrew Campbell? The Highlander answered, with some surprise, it was. "Then," said she, "you will find that you have a friend, whom, as yet, you are not acquainted with, who has both the ability and the will to serve you. That friend," added she, seeing all the company astonished, "is no other than my uncle. That Colonel Simmons, whom you have described with so much feeling and affection, was brother to my father, and consequently uncle to myself. It is no wonder that the memory of such a man should be venerated by his relations. I have often heard my uncle speak of his untimely death as the greatest misfortune which ever happened to our family; and I have often seen him read, with tears in his eyes, many of his brother's letters, in which he speaks with the greatest affection of his faithful Highlander, Andrew Campbell."
At these words the poor Highlander, unable to repress the strong emotions of his mind, sprang forward in a sudden transport of joy, and, without consideration of circumstances, caught Miss Simmons in his arms, exclaiming at the same time, "Praised be to God for this happy and unexpected meeting! Blessed be my shipwreck itself, that has given me an opportunity
of seeing, before I die, some of the blood of my dear and worthy colonel!" and, perceiving Miss Simmons confused at this abrupt and unexpected salutation, he added, in the most respectful manner, "Pardon me, my honoured young lady, for the improper liberty I have taken; but I was not master of myself to find, at a time when I thought myself the most forlorn and miserable of the human race, that I was in company with the nearest relation of the man, whom, after my own father, I have always loved and reverenced most." Miss Simmons answered with the greatest affability that she freely excused the warmth of his affection, and that she would that very day acquaint her uncle with this extraordinary event, who, she did not doubt, would come over with the greatest expedition to see a person whom he knew so well by name, and who could inform him of so many particulars of her uncle.
And now, the company being separated, Tommy, who had listened with silent attention to the story of the Highlander, took an opportunity of following Mr Barlow, who was walking out; and when he perceived they were alone, he looked at him as if he had some weighty matter to disclose, but was unable to give it utterance. Mr Barlow, therefore, turned towards him with the greatest kindness, and taking him tenderly by the hand, inquired what he wished. "Indeed," answered Tommy, almost crying, "I am scarcely able to tell you. But I have been a very bad and ungrateful boy, and I am afraid you no longer have the same affection for me."
Mr Barlow.—If you are sensible of your faults, my little friend, that is a very great step towards amending them. Let me therefore know what it is, the recollec
tion of which distresses you so much; and if it is in my power to assist in making you easy, there is nothing, I am sure, which I shall be inclined to refuse you.
Tommy.—Oh sir! your speaking to me with so much goodness hurts me a great deal more than if you were to be very angry; for when people are angry and passionate, one does not so much mind what they say; but when you speak with so much kindness, it seems to pierce me to the very heart, because I know I have not deserved it.