Having addressed himself to me, he no sooner learnt my country and my name, than he instantly left me, but returned about an hour afterwards, along with the superintendant; who gave orders that my chains should be immediately knocked off. My generous benefactor then told me, that he was no stranger to my rank and misfortunes, and that I was now my own master; adding, that if I chose to return to my native country, I might accompany him thither, as a passenger on board his vessel; if not, he had some little money at my service, to convey me to any region, whither I might incline to retire. The grateful heart can best conceive my acknowledgements; I thankfully accepted his first proposal, and in a few days we set sail for Britain. The face of the ocean was smooth, the sky was azure, and the voyage uncommonly pleasant. I now thought that the storms of misfortune were blown over, and that the evening of my life would close tranquil and serene. But not such the decree of fate. We were just off the Land's End, when night came on, and being perfectly secure in a gen'tle breeze, we resolved to lie by till next day, when we should sail up the channel at our leisure. But before midnight the atmosphere began to thicken, utter darkness soon take place, and one of the most tremendous storms ensued that perhaps ever agitated that narrow strait. The captain gave orders to stand out to sea; but, in such a desperate condition, the sailors paid no regard to his injunctions; and, amid the unhappy confusion, the ship suddenly struck upon a rock, and in a moment burst in twain. Fate now stared each of us in the face. It was ours either to meet death upon the wreck, or to precipitate ourselves into the yawning deep. Among the first class was the worthy, the compassionate captain. Although my life had been far from happy, yet seizing an oar, I resolved to struggle hard to preserve it. After a severe and tedious conflict with the waves, I was taken up in the morning by a small fishing boat, and again landed upon my native shore, friendless and forlorn. As I was now left to wander at large, without an hospitable roof under which to shelter, or a cottage that I could call my own, I first bent my steps towards London; and resolved to visit the grave of my poor Maria, to water it with my tears, as the only tribute I could pay to her beloved memory. I thought I could distinguish the spot from the surrounding tombs, and the green grass turf, with which I myself covered her lovely head. But so often had the shovel, by the unfeeling sexton, turned over the lifeless mould, that all the objects upon which my remembrance had fixed, were gone. In vain did I look for the once well-known tomb, but no traces of it remained; every thing was new to me; and, instead of weeping over the ashes of my much lamented daughter, I dropt a few tears among the undistinguished ruins, as I mused on the frailty of human life, and that oblivion which involves the memory of mortal man. My wandering at last led to the boundaries, of what were once the boundaries of my own estate; but the banker, to refund his property, had long ago sold it to a penurious miser, whose only pleasure seemed to be the amassing of sordid wealth. A dire reverse had here taken place; the gay splendour of my mansion was Aed; the plough had furrowed up the pride of my gardens; and my flowery walks and shady arbours had felt the force of the unfeeling hatchet. A gloomy silence seemed to warn the passing traveller, and needy vagrant, not to approach this inhospitable mansion. One little grotto, in the depth of the wood, alone remained. It was composed of roots and branches of decayed trees, over which Maria, (for it was her favourite retreat), had interwoven eglantine and ivy. Here I spent a solitary day in reviewing the past, and meditating upon the instability of human grandeur-a meditation which often occupies my thoughts, and still beats in unison with the feelings of my mind. Since that time I have roamed whithersoever chance led me, subsisting upon the bounty of the generous and compassionate. Often do I retire to groves and forests, to indulge my contemplations; and in such a condition you found me lately, nor will you, I hope, impute my intrusion into your inclosure to any worse motive. Thus, sir, have I told you my story in all its particulars. You behold before you, a wretch destitute of money, and of friends; who has been the sport of fortune, and the child of hatred, ever since he was truly capable to relish either its joys or sorrows. Look then at my hoary locks, and judge if I have been a transient companion of wor. Look at my tear-furrowed cheeks, and say if my grief has not been poignant. Behold these tattered rags, for they proclaim my poverty; and this bends ing frame is a speaking monument of the devastations of age. There lives not a man upon earth, whose assistance 1 can claim by the ties of consanguinity. Not a drop of my blood runs in human veins; no tear will bedew my grave. I will not flourish in my descendants, nor will my memory live in the hearts of a grateful offspring. Man! unhappy, helpless sufferer, who would not weep for thee! Thy life is but an hand-breath, yet it is the stage of misery in all its forms. Birth's feeble cry, and death's deep dismal groan, ome we ary days between-ah met 'tis done. PHILANTHROPOS. AN EXCURSION THROUGH THE COUNTY OF KENT, Made at different times, but concluded in the month of July, 1801, in Three Letters to a Pupil. By JOHN EVANS, A. M. Master of a Seminary fer a limited Number of Pupils, Pullin's-Row Islington. -O famous Kent! What county hath this Isle that can compare with thee! That hath within thyself as much as thou canst wish Nor any thing doth want that any where is good. Letter 3d. DRAYTON. (Concluded from page 276.) ROSSING the country from Hythe towards the seat of the late eccentric Lord Rokeby; a man { who will always be esteemed for his talents and virtues, by the more discerning part of society. His long beard-his frequent immersions-and his hoarding up money in specie, form indeed traits in his character which cannot fail to excite our risibility. But forgetting these singularities, let it be remembered, thas he was a firm friend to the liberties of his country. Having travelled about twelve miles, we enter the town of Ashford-it is rendered the more lively: by being a thoroughfare from several parts of Kent. The houses are mostly modern, and well built. The market-place stands in the centre of the town, and the church on the south side of it has a beautiful tower. Barracks have been lately built here, which will contain a great many soldiers. Several genteel families reside in Ashford and its vicinity. Tenterden, the next town we reached, has many genteel houses, and stands in a pleasing situation. Its appearance, however, is very scattered. Great part of it is built on each side of the high road leading from the western parts of Kent. It has a market on Friday, though not much frequented. The church is a large structure, with a lofty steeple on the top of which hung, till within these few years, a beacon, which was an object of curiosity. It was a sort of iron kettle, containing about a gallon, with a ring or hoop of the same metal near the upper part of it, to hold still more coals, rosin, &c. suspended at the end of a piece of timber about eight feet; it made a singular appearance, but aided the mariner amidst the dangers of his perilous navigation. There is a noted saying, that-Tenterden steeple was the cause of the Goodwin Sands. It arose from the circumstance that the owner of the rectory of Tenterden engaged in building the steeple, neglected the repair of a wall on the sea coast, so that the ocean breaking in, covered the land with a light sand-now called the Goodwin Sands-on which many a vessel has been consigned to destruction. At Tenterden there are several Dissenters, partieularly a respectable society belonging to the Presbyterian persuasion. Dr. Benjamin Franklin, the celebrated American philosopher, used frequently to visit Tenterden, during his stay in this country. To his discoveries in electricity we are indebted for an ingenious mode of preserving our habitations amidst the rage of contending elements With a spark that he caught from the skies, For we saw with delight and surprise, That his rod could protect us from THUNDER! |