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　　LETTER XXXII

　　The Journal continued. THURSDAY, FRIDAY EVENING.

　　My dear Miss Darnford,

　　I am returned from a very busy day, having had no less than fourteen of our neighbours, gentlemen and ladies, to dinner: the occasion, principally, to welcome our noble guests into these parts; Mr. B. having, as I mentioned before, turned the intended visit into an entertainment, after his usual generous manner.—He and Lord Davers are gone part of the way with them home; and Lord Jackey, mounted with his favourite Colbrand, as an escort to the countess and Lady Davers, who are taking an airing in the chariot. They offered to take the coach, if I would have gone; but being fatigued, I desired to be excused. So I retired to my closet; and Miss Damford, who is seldom out of my thoughts, coming into my mind, I had a new recruit of spirits, which enabled me to resume my pen, and thus I proceed with my journal.

　　Our company was, the Earl and Countess of D., who are so fashionable a married couple, that the earl made it his boast, and his countess bore it like one accustomed to such treatment, that he had not been in his lady's company an hour abroad before for seven years. You know his lordship's character: every body does; and there is not a worse, as report says, in the peerage.

　　Sir Thomas Atkyns, a single gentleman, not a little finical and ceremonious, and a mighty beau, though of the tawdry sort, and affecting foreign airs; as if he was afraid it would not be judged by any other mark that he had travelled.

　　Mr. Arthur and his lady, a moderately happy couple, who seem always, when together, to behave as if upon a compromise; that is, that each should take it in turn to say free things of the other; though some of their freedoms are of so cutting a nature, that it looks as if they intended to divert the company at their own expense. The lady, being of a noble family, strives to let every one know that she values herself not a little upon that advantage; but otherwise has many good qualities.

　　Mr. Brooks and his lady. He is a free joker on serious subjects, but a good-natured man, and says sprightly things with no ill grace: the lady a little reserved, and haughty, though to-day was freer than usual; as was observed at table by

　　Lady Towers, who is a maiden lady of family, noted for her wit and repartee, and who says many good things, with so little doubt and really so good a grace, that one cannot help being pleased with her. This lady is generally gallanted by

　　Mr. Martin of the Grove, so called, to distinguish him from a rich citizen of that name, settled in these parts, but being covetous and proud, is seldom admitted among the gentry in their visits or parties of pleasure.

　　Mr. Dormer, one of a very courteous demeanour, a widower, was another, who always speaks well of his deceased lady, and of all the sex for her sake. Mr. Chapman and his lady, a well-behaved couple, not ashamed to be very tender and observing to each other, but without that censurable fondness which sits so ill upon some married folks in company.

　　Then there was the dean, our good minister, whom I name last, because I would close with one of the worthiest; and his daughter, who came to supply her mamma's place, who was indisposed; a well-behaved prudent young lady. And here were our fourteen guests.

　　The Countess of C., Lord and Lady Davers, Mr. H., my dear Mr. B. and your humble servant, made up the rest of the company. Thus we had a capacious and brilliant circle; and all the avenues to the house were crowded with their equipages.

　　The subjects of discourse at dinner were various, as you may well suppose; and the circle was too large to fall upon any regular or very remarkable topics. A good deal of sprightly wit, however, flew about, between the Earl of D., Lady Towers, and Mr. Martin, in which that lord suffered as he deserved; for he was no match for the lady, especially as the presence of the dean was a very visible restraint upon him, and Mr. Brooks too: so much awe will the character of a good clergyman always have upon even forward spirits, where he is known to have had an inviolable regard to it himself.—Besides, the good gentleman has, naturally, a genteel and inoffensive vein of raillery, and so was too hard for them at their own weapons. But after dinner, and the servants being withdrawn, Mr. Martin singled me out, as he loves to do, for a subject of encomium, and made some high compliments to my dear Mr. B. upon his choice; and wished (as he often does), he could find just such another for himself.

　　Lady Towers told him it was a thing as unaccountable as it was unreasonable, that every rake who loved to destroy virtue, should expect to be rewarded with it: and if his brother B. had come off so well, she thought no one else ought to expect it.

　　Lady Davers said, it was a very just observation: and she thought it a pity there was not a law, that every man who made a harlot of an honest woman, should be obliged to marry one of another's making.

　　Mr. B. said, that would be too severe; it would be punishment enough, if he was to marry his own; and especially if he had not seduced her under promise of marriage.

　　"Then you'd have a man be obliged to stand to his promise, I suppose, Mr. B.?" replied Lady Davers. "Yes, madam."—"But," said she, "the proof would be difficult perhaps: and the most unguilty heart of our sex might be least able to make it out.—But what say you, my Lord D.; will you, and my Lord Davers, join to bring a bill into the House of Peers, for the purposes I mentioned? I fancy my brother would give it all the assistance he could in the Lower House."

　　"Indeed," said Mr. B., "if I may be allowed to speak in the plural number, we must not pretend to hold an argument on this subject.—What say you, Mr. H.? Which side are you of?"—"Every gentleman," replied he, "who is not of the ladies' side, is deemed a criminal; and I was always of the side that had the power of the gallows."

　　"That shews," returned Lady Towers, "that Mr. H. is more afraid of the punishment, than of deserving it."—"'Tis well," said Mr. B.," that any consideration deters a man of Mr. H.'s time of life. What may be fear now, may improve to virtue in time."

　　"Ay," said Lady Davers, "Jackey is one of his uncle's foxes: he'd be glad to snap up a straggling pullet, if he was not well looked after, perhaps."—"Pray, my dear," said Lord Davers, "forbear: you ought not to introduce two different conversations into different companies."

　　"Well, but," said Lady Arthur, "since you seem to have been so hard put to it, as single men, what's to be done with the married man who ruins an innocent body?—What punishment, Lady Towers, shall we find out for such an one; and what reparation to the injured?" This was said with a particular view to the earl, on a late scandalous occasion; as I afterwards found.

　　"As to the punishment of the gentleman," replied Lady Towers, "where the law is not provided for it, it must be left, I believe, to his conscience. It will then one day be heavy enough. But as to the reparation to the woman, so far as it can be made, it will be determinable as the unhappy person may or may not know, that her seducer is a married man: if she knows he is, I think she neither deserves redress nor pity, though it elevate not his guilt. But if the case be otherwise, and she had no means of informing herself that he was married, and he promised to make her his wife, to be sure, though she cannot be acquitted, he deserves the severest punishment that can be inflicted.—What say you, Mrs. B.?"

　　"If I must speak, I think that since custom now exacts so little regard to virtue from men, and so much from women, and since the designs of the former upon the latter are so flagrantly avowed and known, the poor creature, who suffers herself to be seduced, either by a single or married man, with promises, or without, has only to sequester herself from the world, and devote the rest of her days to penitence and obscurity. As to the gentleman," added I, "he must, I doubt, be left to his conscience, as you say, Lady Towers, which he will one day have enough to do to pacify."

　　"Every young lady has not your angelic perfection, Madam," said Mr. Dormer. "And there are cases in which the fair sex deserve compassion, ours execration. Love may insensibly steal upon a soft heart; when once admitted, the oaths, vows, and protestations of the favoured object, who declaims against the deceivers of his sex, confirm her good opinion of him, till having lull'd asleep her vigilance, in an unguarded hour he takes advantage of her unsuspecting innocence. Is not such a poor creature to be pitied? And what punishment does not such a seducer deserve?"

　　"You have put, Sir," said I, "a moving case, and in a generous manner. What, indeed, does not such a deceiver deserve?"—"And the more," said Mrs. Chapman, "as the most innocent heart is generally the most credulous."—"Very true," said my countess; "for such an one as would do no harm to others, seldom suspects any from others; and her lot is very unequally cast; admired for that very innocence which tempts some brutal ravager to ruin it."—"Yet, what is that virtue," said the dean, "which cannot stand the test?"

　　"But," said Lady Towers, very satirically, "whither, ladies, are we got? We are upon the subject of virtue and honour. Let us talk of something in which the gentlemen can join with us. This is such an one, you see, that none but the dean and Mr. Dormer can discourse upon."—"Let us then," retorted Mr. Martin, "to be even with one lady at least find a subject that will be new to her: and that is CHARITY."

　　"Does what I said concern Mr. Martin more than any other gentleman," returned Lady Towers, "that he is disposed to take offence at it?"

　　"You must pardon me, Lady Towers," said Mr. B., "but I think a lady should never make a motion to wave such subjects as those of virtue and honour; and less still, in company, where there is so much occasion, as she seems to think, for enforcing them."

　　"I desire not to wave the subject, I'll assure you," replied she. "And if, Sir, you think it may do good, we will continue it for the sakes of all you gentlemen" (looking round her archly), "who are of opinion you may be benefited by it."

　　A health to the king and royal family, brought on public affairs and politics; and the ladies withdrawing to coffee and tea, I have no more to say as to this conversation, having repeated all that I remember was said to any purpose. SATURDAY MORNING

　　The countess being a little indisposed. Lady Davers and I took an airing this morning in the chariot, and had a long discourse together. Her ladyship was pleased to express great favour and tenderness towards me; gave me much good advice, as to the care she would have me take of myself; and told me, that her hopes, as well as her brother's, all centred in my welfare; and that the way I was in made her love me better and better.

　　She was pleased to tell me, how much she approved of the domestic management; and to say, that she never saw such regularity and method in any family in her life, where was the like number of servants: every one, she said, knew their duty, and did it without speaking to, in such silence, and with so much apparent cheerfulness and delight, without the least hurry or confusion, that it was her surprise and admiration: but kindly would have it that I took too much care upon me. "Yet," said she, "I don't see but you are always fresh and lively, and never seem tired or fatigued; and are always dressed and easy, so that no company find you unprepared, or unfit to receive them, come when they will, whether it be to breakfast or dinner."

　　I told her ladyship, I owed all this and most of the conduct for which she was pleased to praise me, to her dear brother, who, at the beginning of my happiness, gave me several cautions and instructions for my behaviour; which had been the rule of my conduct ever since, and I hoped ever would be:—"To say nothing," added I, "which yet would be very unjust, of the assistance I received from worthy Mrs. Jervis, who is an excellent manager."

　　Good Creature, Sweet Pamela, and Charming Girl, were her common words; and she was pleased to attribute to me a graceful and unaffected ease, and that I have a natural dignity in my person and behaviour, which at once command love and reverence; so that, my dear Miss Darnford, I am in danger of being proud. For you must believe, that her ladyship's approbation gives me great pleasure; and the more, as I was afraid, before she came, I should not have come on near so well in her opinion. As the chariot passed along, she took great notice of the respects paid me by people of different ranks, and of the blessings bestowed upon me, by several, as we proceeded; and said, she should fare well, and be rich in good wishes, for being in my company.

　　"The good people who know us, will do so, Madam," said I; "but I had rather have their silent prayers than their audible ones; and I have caused some of them to be told so. What I apprehend is, that you will be more uneasy to-morrow, when at church you'll see a good many people in the same way. Indeed my story, and your dear brother's tenderness to me, are so much talked of, that many strangers are brought hither to see us: 'tis the only thing," continued I (and so it is, Miss), "that makes me desirous to go to London; for by the time we return, the novelty, I hope, will cease." Then I mentioned some verses of Mr. Cowley, which were laid under my cushion in our seat at church, two Sundays ago, by some unknown hand; and how uneasy they have made me. I will transcribe them, my dear, and give you the particulars of our conversation on that occasion. The verses are these:

　　"Thou robb'st my days of bus'ness and delights, Of sleep thou robb'st my nights. Ah! lovely thief! what wilt thou do? What! rob me of heaven too? Thou ev'n my prayers dost steal from me, And I, with wild idolatry, Begin to GOD, and end them all to thee.

　　No, to what purpose should I speak? No, wretched heart, swell till you break. She cannot love me, if she would, And, to say truth, 'twere pity that she should. No, to the grave thy sorrow bear, As silent as they will be there; Since that lov'd hand this mortal wound does give, So handsomely the thing contrive That she may guiltless of it live; So perish, that her killing thee May a chance-medley, and no murder, be."

　　I had them in my pocket, and read them to my lady; who asked me, if her brother had seen them? I told her, it was he that found them under the cushion I used to sit upon; but did not shew them to me till I came home; and that I was so vexed at them, that I could not go to church in the afternoon.

　　"What should you be vexed at, my dear?" said she: "how could you help it? My brother was not disturbed at them, was he?"—"No, indeed," replied I: "he chid me for being so; and was pleased to make me a fine compliment upon it; that he did not wonder that every body who saw me loved me. But I said, this was all that wicked wit is good for, to inspire such boldness in bad hearts, which might otherwise not dare to set pen to paper to affront any one. But pray, Madam," added I, "don't own I have told you of them, lest the least shadow of a thought should arise, that I was prompted by some vile secret vanity, to tell your ladyship of them, when I am sure, they have vexed me more than enough. For is it not a sad thing, that the church should be profaned by such actions, and such thoughts, as ought not to be brought into it? Then, Madam, to have any wicked man dare to think of one with impure notions! It gives me the less opinion of myself, that I should be so much as thought of as the object of any wicked body's wishes. I have called myself to account upon it, whether any levity in my looks, my dress, my appearance, could embolden such an offensive insolence. And I have thought upon this occasion better of Julius Caesar's delicacy than I did, when I read of it; who, upon an attempt made on his wife, to which, however, it does not appear she gave the least encouragement, said to those who pleaded for her against the divorce he was resolved upon, that the wife of Caesar ought not to be suspected.—Indeed, Madam," continued I, "it would extremely shock me, but to know that any wicked heart had conceived a design upon me; upon me, give me leave to repeat, whose only glory and merit is, that I have had the grace to withstand the greatest of trials and temptations, from a gentleman more worthy to be beloved, both for person and mind, than any man in England."

　　"Your observation, my dear, is truly delicate, and such as becomes your mind and character. And I really think, if any lady in the world is secure from vile attempts, it must be you; not only from your story, so well known, and the love you bear to your man, and his merit to you, but from the prudence, and natural dignity, I will say, of your behaviour, which, though easy and cheerful, is what would strike dead the hope of any presumptuous libertine the moment he sees you."

　　"How can I enough," returned I, and kissed her hand, "acknowledge your ladyship's polite goodness in this compliment? But, my lady, you see by the very instance I have mentioned, that a liberty is taken, which I cannot think of without pain."

　　"I am pleased with your delicacy, my dear, as I said before. You can never err, whilst thus watchful over your conduct: and I own you have the more reason for it, as you have married a mere Julius Caesar, an open-eyed rake" (that was her word), "who would, on the least surmise, though ever so causeless on your part, have all his passions up in arms, in fear of liberties being offered like those he has not scrupled to take."—"O but, Madam," said I, "he has given me great satisfaction in one point; for you must think I should not love him as I ought, if I had not a concern for his future happiness, as well as for his present; and that is, he has assured me, that in all the liberties he has taken, he never attempted a married lady, but always abhorred the thought of so great an evil."—"'Tis pity," said her ladyship, "that a man who could conquer his passions so far, could not subdue them entirely. This shews it was in his own power to do so; and increases his crime: and what a wretch is he, who scrupling, under pretence of conscience or honour, to attempt ladies within the pale, boggles not to ruin a poor creature without; although he knows, he thereby, most probably, for ever deprived her of that protection, by preventing her marriage, which even among such rakes as himself, is deemed, he owns, inviolable; and so casts the poor creature headlong into the jaws of perdition."

　　"Ah! Madam," replied I, "this was the very inference I made upon the occasion."—"And what could he say?"—"He said, my inference was just; but called me pretty preacher;—and once having cautioned me not to be over-serious to him, so as to cast a gloom, as he said, over our innocent enjoyments, I never dare to urge matters farther, when he calls me by that name."

　　"Well," said my lady, "thou'rt an admirable girl! God's goodness was great to our family, when it gave thee to it. No wonder," continued she, "as my brother says, every body that sees you, and has heard your character, loves you. And this is some excuse for the inconsiderate folly even of this unknown transcriber."—"Ah! Madam," replied I, "but is it not a sad thing, that people, if they must take upon them to like one's behaviour in general, should have the worst, instead of the best thoughts upon it? If I were as good as I ought to be, and as some think me, must they wish to make me bad for that reason?"

　　Her ladyship was pleased to kiss me as we sat. "My charming Pamela, my more than sister,."—(Did she say?)—Yes, she did say so! and made my eyes overflow with joy to hear the sweet epithet. "How your conversation charms me!—I charge you, when you get to town, let me have your remarks on the diversions you will be carried to by my brother. Now I know what to expect from you, and you know how acceptable every thing from you will be to me, I promise great pleasure, as well to myself as to my worthy friends, particularly to Lady Betty, in your unrestrained free correspondence.—Indeed, Pamela, I must bring you acquainted with Lady Betty: she is one of the worthies of our sex, and has a fine understanding.—I'm sure you'll like her.—But (for the world say it not to my brother, nor let Lady Betty know I tell you so, if ever you should be acquainted) I had carried the matter so far by my officious zeal to have my brother married to so fine a lady, not doubting his joyful approbation, that it was no small disappointment to her, when he married you: and this is the best excuse I can make for my furious behaviour to you at the Hall. For though I am naturally very hasty and passionate, yet then I was almost mad.—Indeed my disappointment had given me so much indignation both against you and him, that it is well I did not do some violent thing by you. I believe you did feel the weight of my hand: but what was that? 'Twas well I did not kill you dead."—These were her ladyship's words—"For how could I think the wild libertine capable of being engaged by such noble motives, or thee what thou art!—So this will account to thee a little for my violence then."

　　"Your ladyship," said I, "all these things considered, had but too much reason to be angry at your dear brother's proceedings, so well as you always loved him, so high a concern as you always had to promote his honour and interest, and so far as you had gone with Lady Betty."

　　"I tell thee, Pamela, that the old story of Eleanor and Rosamond run in my head all the way of my journey, and I almost wished for a potion to force down thy throat: when I found thy lewd paramour absent, (for little did I think thou wast married to him, though I expected thou wouldst try to persuade me to believe it) fearing that his intrigue with thee would effectually frustrate my hopes as to Lady Betty and him: 'Now,' thought I, 'all happens as I wish!—Now will I confront this brazen girl!—Now will I try her innocence, as I please, by offering to take her away with me; if she refuses, take that refusal for a demonstration of her gui< and then,' thought I, 'I will make the creature provoke me, in the presence of my nephew and my woman,' (and I hoped to have got that woman Jewkes to testify for me too), and I cannot tell what I might have done, if thou hadst not escaped out of the window, especially after telling me thou wast as much married as I was, and hadst shewn me his tender letter to thee, which had a quite different effect upon me than you expected. But if I had committed any act of violence, what remorse should I have had on reflection, and knowing what an excellence I had injured! Thank God thou didst escape me!" And then her ladyship folded her arms about me, and kissed me.

　　This was a sad story, you'll say, my dear: and I wonder what her ladyship's passion would have made her do! Surely she would not have killed me dead! Surely she would not!—Let it not, however, Miss Darnford—nor you, my dear parents—when you see it—go out of your own hands, nor be read, for my Lady Davers's sake, to any body else—No, not to your own mamma. It made me tremble a little, even at this distance, to think what a sad thing passion is, when way is given to its ungovernable tumults, and how it deforms and debases the noblest minds.

　　We returned from this agreeable airing just in time to dress before dinner, and then my lady and I went together into the countess's apartment, where I received abundance of compliments from both. As this brief conversation will give you some notion of that management and economy for which they heaped upon me their kind praises, I will recite to you what passed in it, and hope you will not think me too vain; and the less, because what I underwent formerly from my lady's indignation, half entitles me to be proud of her present kindness and favour.

　　Lady Davers said, "Your ladyship must excuse us, that we have lost so much of your company; but here, this sweet girl has so entertained me, that I could have staid out with her all day; and several times did I bid the coachman prolong his circuit."—"My good Lady Davers, Madam," said I, "has given me inexpressible pleasure, and has been all condescension and favour, and made me as proud as proud can be."—"You, my dear Mrs. B.," said she, "may have given great pleasure to Lady Davers, for it cannot be otherwise—But I have no great notion of her ladyship's condescension, as you call it—(pardon me, Madam," said she to her, smiling) "when she cannot raise her style above the word girl, coming off from a tour you have made so delightful to her."—"I protest to you, my Lady C.," replied her ladyship, with great goodness, "that word, which once I used through pride, as you'll call it, I now use for a very different reason. I begin to doubt, whether to call her sister, is not more honour to myself than to her; and to this hour am not quite convinc'd. When I am, I will call her so with pleasure." I was quite overcome with this fine compliment, but could not answer a word: and the countess said, "I could have spared you longer, had not the time of day compelled your return; for I have been very agreeably entertained, as well as you, although but with the talk of your woman and mine. For here they have been giving me such an account of Mrs. B.'s economy, and family management, as has highly delighted me. I never knew the like; and in so young a lady too.—We shall have strange reformations to make in our families, Lady Davers, when we go home, were we to follow so good an example.—Why, my dear Mrs. B.," continued her ladyship, "you out-do all your neighbours. And indeed I am glad I live so far from you:—for were I to try to imitate you, it would still be but imitation, and you'd have the honour of it."—"Yet you hear, and you see by yesterday's conversation," said Lady Davers, "how much her best neighbours, of both sexes, admire her: they all yield to her the palm, unenvying."—"Then, my good ladies," said I, "it is a sign I have most excellent neighbours, full of generosity, and willing to encourage a young person in doing right things: so it makes, considering what I was, more for their honour than my own. For what censures should not such a one as I deserve, who have not been educated to fill up my time like ladies of condition, were I not to employ myself as I do? I, who have so little other merit, and who brought no fortune at all."—"Come, come, Pamela, none of your self-denying ordinances," that was Lady Davers's word; "you must know something of your own excellence: if you do not, I'll tell it you, because there is no fear you will be proud or vain upon it. I don't see, then, that there is the lady in yours, or any neighbourhood, that behaves with more decorum, or better keeps up the part of a lady, than you do. How you manage it, I can't tell; but you do as much by a look, and a pleasant one too, that's the rarity! as I do by high words, and passionate exclamations: I have often nothing but blunder upon blunder, as if the wretches were in a confederacy to try my patience."—"Perhaps," said I, "the awe they have of your ladyship, because of your high qualities, makes them commit blunders; for I myself was always more afraid of appearing before your ladyship, when you have visited your honoured mother, than of any body else, and have been the more sensibly awkward through that very awful respect."—"Psha, psha, Pamela, that is not it: 'tis all in yourself. I used to think my mamma, and my brother too, had as awkward servants as ever I saw any where—except Mrs. Jervis—Well enough for a bachelor, indeed!—But, here!—thou hast not parted with one servant—Hast thou?"—"No, Madam."—"How!" said the countess; "what excellence is here!—All of them, pardon me, Mrs. B.

　　, your fellow-servants, as one may say, and all of them so respectful, so watchful of your eye; and you, at the same time, so gentle to them, so easy, so cheerful."

　　Don't you think me, my dear, insufferably vain? But 'tis what they were pleased to say. 'Twas their goodness to me, and shewed how much they can excel in generous politeness. So I will proceed. "Why this," continued the countess, "must be born dignity—born discretion—Education cannot give it:—if it could, why should not we have it?"

　　The ladies said many more kind things of me then; and after dinner they mentioned all over again, with additions, before my best friend, who was kindly delighted with the encomiums given me by two ladies of such distinguishing judgment in all other cases. They told him, how much they admired my family management: then they would have it that my genius was universal, for the employments and accomplishments of my sex, whether they considered it as employed in penmanship, in needlework, in paying or receiving visits, in music, and I can't tell how many other qualifications, which they were pleased to attribute to me, over and above the family management: saying, that I had an understanding which comprehended every thing, and an eye that penetrated into the very bottom of matters in a moment, and never was at a loss for the should be, the why or wherefore, and the how—these were their comprehensive words; that I did every thing with celerity, clearing all as I went, and left nothing, they observed, to come over again, that could be dispatched at once: by which means, they said, every hand was clear to undertake a new work, as well as my own head to direct it; and there was no hurry nor confusion: but every coming hour was fresh and ready, and unincumbered (so they said), for its new employment; and to this they attributed that ease and pleasure with which every thing was performed, and that I could do and cause to be done, so much business without hurry either to myself or servants.

　　Judge how pleasing this was to my best beloved, who found, in their kind approbation, such a justification of his own conduct as could not fail of being pleasing to him, especially as Lady Davers was one of the kind praisers. Lord Davers was so highly delighted, that he rose once, begging his brother's excuse, to salute me, and stood over my chair, with a pleasure in his looks that cannot be expressed, now-and-then lifting up his hands, and his good-natured eye glistening with joy, which a pier-glass gave me the opportunity of seeing, as sometimes I stole a bashful glance towards it, not knowing how or which way to look. Even Mr. H. seemed to be touched very sensibly; and recollecting his behaviour to me at the Hall, he once cried out, "What a sad whelp was I, to behave as I formerly did, to so much excellence!—Not, Mr. B., that I was any thing uncivil neither;—but in unworthy sneers, and nonsense.—You know me well enough.—You called me, tinsell'd boy, though, Madam, don't you remember that? and said, twenty or thirty years hence, when I was at age, you'd give me an answer. Egad! I shall never forget your looks, nor your words neither!—they were severe speeches, were they not, Sir?"—"O you see, Mr. H.," replied my dear Mr. B., "Pamela is not quite perfect. We must not provoke her; for she'll call us both so, perhaps; for I wear a laced coat, sometimes, as well as you."

　　"Nay, I can't be angry," said he. "I deserved it richly, that I did, had it been worse."—"Thy silly tongue," said my lady, "runs on without fear or wit. What's past is past."—"Why, Madam, I was plaguily wrong; and I said nothing of any body but myself:—and have been ready to hang myself since, as often as I have thought of my nonsense."—"My nephew," said my lord, "must bring in hanging, or the gallows in every speech he makes, or it will not be he." Mr. B., smiling, said, with severity enough in his meaning, as I saw by the turn of his countenance, "Mr. H. knows that his birth and family entitle him more to the block, than the rope, or he would not make so free with the latter."—"Good! very good, by Jupiter!" said Mr. H. laughing. The countess smiled. Lady Davers shook her head at her brother, and said to her nephew, "Thou'rt a good-natured foolish fellow, that thou art."—"For what, Madam? Why the word foolish, aunt? What have I said now?"

　　"Nothing to any purpose, indeed," said she; "when thou dost, I'll write it down."—"Then, Madam," said he, "have your pen and ink always about you, when I am present; and put that down to begin with!" This made every one laugh. "What a happy thing is it," thought I, "that good nature generally accompanies this character; else, how would some people be supportable?"

　　But here I'll break off. 'Tis time, you'll say. But you know to whom I write, as well as to yourself, and they'll be pleased with all my silly scribble. So excuse one part for that, and another for friendship's sake, and then I shall be wholly excusable to you.

　　Now the trifler again resumes her pen. I am in some pain, Miss, for to-morrow, because of the rules we observe of late in our family on Sundays, and of going through a crowd to church; which will afford new scenes to our noble visitors, either for censure or otherwise: but I will sooner be censured for doing what I think my duty, than for the want of it; and so will omit nothing that we have been accustomed to do.

　　I hope I shall not be thought ridiculous, or as one who aims at works of supererogation, for what I think is very short of my duty. Some order, surely, becomes the heads of families; and besides, it would be discrediting one's own practice, if one did not appear at one time what one does at another. For that which is a reason for discontinuing a practice for some company, would seem to be a reason for laying it aside for ever, especially in a family visiting and visited as ours. And I remember well a hint given me by my dearest friend once on another subject, that it is in every one's power to prescribe rules to himself, after a while, and persons to see what is one's way, and that one is not to be put out of it. But my only doubt is, that to ladies, who have not been accustomed perhaps to the necessary strictness, I should make myself censurable, as if I aimed at too much perfection: for, however one's duty is one's duty, and ought not to be dispensed with; yet, when a person, who uses to be remiss, sees so hard a task before them, and so many great points to get over, all to be no more than tolerably regular, it is rather apt to frighten and discourage, than to allure; and one must proceed, as I have read soldiers do, in a difficult siege, inch by inch, and be more studious to entrench and fortify themselves, as they go on gaining upon the enemy, than by rushing all at once upon an attack of the place, be repulsed, and perhaps obliged with great loss to abandon a hopeful enterprise. And permit me to add, that young as I am, I have often observed, that over-great strictnesses all at once enjoined and insisted upon, are not fit for a beginning reformation, but for stronger Christians only; and therefore generally do more harm than good.

　　But shall I not be too grave, my dear friend?—Excuse me; for this is Saturday night: and as it was a very good method which the ingenious authors of the Spectator took, generally to treat their more serious subjects on this day; so I think one should, when one can, consider it as the preparative eve to a still better. SUNDAY.

　　Now, my dear, by what I have already written, it is become in a manner necessary to acquaint you briefly with the method my dear Mr. B. not only permits, but encourages me to take, in the family he leaves to my care, as to the Sunday duty.

　　The worthy dean, at my request, and my beloved's permission, recommended to me, as a sort of family chaplain, for Sundays, a young gentleman of great sobriety and piety, and sound principles, who having but lately taken orders, has at present no other provision. And this gentleman comes, and reads prayers to us about seven in the morning, in the lesser hall, as we call it, a retired apartment, next the little garden; for we have no chapel with us here, as in your neighbourhood; and this generally, with some suitable exhortation, or meditation out of some good book, which he is so kind as to let me choose now-and-then, when I please, takes up little more than half an hour. We have a great number of servants of both sexes: and myself, Mrs. Jervis, and Polly Barlow, are generally in a little closet, which, when we open the door, is but just a separation from the hall.—Mr. Adams (for that is our young clergyman's name) has a desk at which sometimes Mr. Jonathan makes up his running accounts to Mr. Longman, who is very scrupulous of admitting any body to the use of his office, because of the writing in his custody, and the order he values himself upon having every thing in. About seven in the evening he comes again, and I generally, let me have what company I will, find time to retire for about another half hour; and my dear Mr. B. connives at, and excuses my absence, if enquired after; though for so short a time, I am seldom missed.

　　To the young gentleman I shall present, every quarter, five guineas, and Mr. B. presses him to accept of a place at his table at his pleasure: but, as we have generally much company, his modesty makes him decline it, especially at those times.—Mr. Longman joins with us very often in our Sunday office, and Mr. Colbrand seldom misses: and they tell Mrs. Jervis that they cannot express the pleasure they have to meet me there; and the edification they receive.

　　My best beloved dispenses as much as he can with the servants, for the evening part, if he has company; or will be attended only by John or Abraham, perhaps by turns; and sometimes looks upon his watch, and says, "'Tis near seven;" and if he says so, they take it for a hint that they may be dispensed with for half an hour; and this countenance which he gives me, has contributed not a little to make the matter easy and delightful to me, and to every one.—When I part from them, on the breaking up of our assembly, they generally make a little row on each side of the hall-door; and when I have made my compliments, and paid my thanks to Mr. Adams, they whisper, as I go out, "God bless you, Madam!" and bow and curtsey with such pleasure in their honest countenances as greatly delights me: and I say, "So my good friends—I am glad to see you—Not one absent!" or but one—(as it falls out)—"This is very obliging," I cry: and thus I shew them, that I take notice, if any body be not there. And back again I go to pay my duty to my earthly benefactor: and he is pleased to say sometimes, that I come to him with such a radiance in my countenance, as gives him double pleasure to behold me; and often tells me, that but for appearing too fond before company, he could meet me as I enter, with embraces as pure as my own heart.

　　I hope in time, I shall prevail upon the dear man to give me his company.—But, thank God, I am enabled to go thus far already!—I will leave the rest to his providence. For I have a point very delicate to touch upon in this particular; and I must take care not to lose the ground I have gained, by too precipitately pushing at too much at once. This is my comfort, that next to being uniform himself, is that permission and encouragement he gives me to be so, and his pleasure in seeing me so delighted—and besides, he always gives me his company to church. O how happy should I think myself, if he would be pleased to accompany me to the divine office, which yet he has not done, though I have urged him as much as I durst.—Mrs. Jervis asked me on Saturday evening, if I would be concerned to see a larger congregation in the lesser hall next morning than usual? I answered, "No, by no means." She said, Mrs. Worden, and Mrs. Lesley (the two ladies' women), and Mr. Sidney, my Lord Davers's gentleman, and Mr. H.'s servant, and the coachmen and footmen belonging to our noble visitors, who are, she says, all great admirers of our family management and good order, having been told our method, begged to join in it. I knew I should be a little dashed at so large a company; but the men being orderly for lords' servants, and Mrs. Jervis assuring me that they were very earnest in their request, I consented to it.

　　When, at the usual time, (with my Polly) I went down, I found Mr. Adams here (to whom I made my first compliments), and every one of our own people waiting for me, Mr. Colbrand excepted (whom Mr. H. had kept up late the night before), together with Mrs. Worden and Mrs. Lesley, and Mr. Sidney, with the servants of our guests, who, as also worthy Mr. Longman, and Mrs. Jervis, and Mr. Jonathan, paid me their respects: and I said, "This is early rising, Mrs. Lesley and Mrs. Worden; you are very kind to countenance us with your companies in this our family order. Mr. Sidney, I am glad to see you.—How do you do, Mr. Longman?" and looked round with complacency on the servants of our noble visitors. And then I led Mrs. Worden and Mrs. Lesley to my little retiring place, and Mrs. Jervis and my Polly followed; and throwing the door open, Mr. Adams began some select prayers; and as he reads with great emphasis and propriety, as if his heart was in what he read, all the good folks were exceedingly attentive.—After prayers, Mr. Adams reads a meditation, from a collection made for private use, which I shall more particularly mention by-and-by; and ending with the usual benediction, I thanked the worthy gentleman, and gently chid him in Mr. B.'s name, for his modesty in declining our table; and thanking Mr. Longman, Mrs. Worden, and Mrs. Lesley, received their kind wishes, and hastened, blushing through their praises, to my chamber, where, being alone, I pursued the subject for an hour, till breakfast was ready, when I attended the ladies, and my best beloved, who had told them of the verses placed under my cushion at church.—We set out, my Lord and Lady Davers, and myself, and Mr. H. in our coach, and Mr. B. and the countess in the chariot; both ladies and the gentlemen splendidly dressed; but I avoided a glitter as much as I could, that I might not seem to vie with the two peeresses.—Mr. B. said, "Why are you not full-dressed, my dear?" I said, I hoped he would not be displeased; if he was, I would do as he commanded. He kindly answered, "As you like best, my love. You are charming in every dress."

　　The chariot first drawing up to the church door, Mr. B. led the countess into church. My Lord Davers did me that honour; and Mr. H. handed his aunt through a crowd of gazers, many of whom, as usual, were strangers. The neighbouring gentlemen and their ladies paid us their silent respects; but the thoughts of the wicked verses, or rather, as Lady Davers will have me say, wicked action of the transcriber of them, made me keep behind the pew; but my lady sat down by me, and whisperingly talked between whiles, to me, with great tenderness and freedom in her aspect; which I could not but take kindly, because I knew she intended by it, to shew every one she was pleased with me.

　　Afterwards she was pleased to add, taking my hand, and Mr. B. and the countess heard her (for she raised her voice to a more audible whisper), "I'm proud to be in thy company, and in this solemn place, I take thy hand, and acknowledge with pride, my sister." I looked down; and indeed, at church, I can hardly at any time look up; for who can bear to be gazed at so?—and softly said, "Oh! my good lady! how much you honour me; the place, and these surrounding eyes, can only hinder me from acknowledging as I ought."

　　My best friend, with pleasure in his eyes, said, pressing his hand upon both ours, as my lady had mine in hers—"You are two beloved creatures: both excellent in your way. God bless you both."—"And you too, my dear brother," said my lady.

　　The countess whispered, "You should spare a body a little! You give one, ladies, and Mr. B., too much pleasure all at once. Such company, and such behaviour adds still more charms to devotion; and were I to be here a twelvemonth, I would never miss once accompanying you to this good place."

　　Mr. H. thought he must say something, and addressing himself to his noble uncle, who could not keep his good-natured eye off me—"I'll be hang'd, my lord, if I know how to behave myself! Why this outdoes the chapel!—I'm glad I put on my new suit!" And then he looked upon himself, as if he would support, as well as he could, his part of the general admiration.

　　But think you not, my dear Miss Darnford, and my dearest father and mother, that I am now in the height of my happiness in this life, thus favoured by Lady Davers? The dean preached an excellent sermon; but I need not have said that; only to have mentioned, that he preached, was saying enough.

　　My lord led me out when divine service was over; and being a little tender in his feet, from a gouty notice, walked very slowly. Lady Towers and Mrs. Brooks joined us in the porch, and made us their compliments, as did Mr. Martin. "Will you favour us with your company home, my old acquaintance?" said Mr. B. to him.—"I can't, having a gentleman, my relation, to dine with me; but if it will be agreeable in the evening, I will bring him with me to taste of your Burgundy: for we have not any such in the county."—"I shall be glad to see you, or any friend of yours," replied Mr. B.

　　Mr. Martin whispered—"It is more, however, to admire your lady, I can tell you that, than your wine.-Get into your coaches, ladies," said he, with his usual freedom; "our maiden and widow ladies have a fine time of it, wherever you come: by my faith they must every one of them quit this neighbourhood, if you were to stay in it: but all their hopes are, that while you are in London, they'll have the game in their own hands."—"Sister," said Lady Davers, most kindly to me, in presence of many, who (in a respectful manner) gathered near us, "Mr. Martin is the same gentleman he used to be, I see."

　　"Mr. Martin, Madam," said I, smiling, "has but one fault: he is too apt to praise whom he favours, at the expense of his absent friends."

　　"I am always proud of your reproofs, Mrs. B.," replied he.-"Ay," said Lady Towers, "that I believe.—And, therefore, I wish, for all our sakes, you'd take him oftener to task, Mrs. B."

　　Lady Towers, Lady Arthur, Mrs. Brooks, and Mr. Martin, all claimed visits from us; and Mr. B. making excuses, that he must husband his time, being obliged to go to town soon, proposed to breakfast with Lady Towers the next morning, dine with Mrs. Arthur, and sup with Mrs. Brooks; and as there cannot be a more social and agreeable neighbourhood any where, his proposal, after some difficulty, was accepted; and our usual visiting neighbours were all to have notice accordingly, at each of the places.

　　I saw Sir Thomas Atkyns coming towards us, and fearing to be stifled with compliments, I said—"Your servant, ladies and gentlemen;" and giving my hand to Lord Davers, stept into the chariot, instead of the coach; for people that would avoid bustle, sometimes make it. Finding my mistake, I would have come out, but my lord said, "Indeed you shan't: for I'll step in, and have you all to myself."

　　Lady Davers smiled—"Now," said she (while the coach drew up), "is my Lord Davers pleased;—but I see, sister, you were tired with part of your company in the coach."—"'Tis well contrived, my dear," said Mr. B., "as long as you have not deprived me of this honour;" taking the countess's hand, and leading her into the coach.

　　Will you excuse all this impertinence, my dear?—I know my father and mother will be pleased with it; and you will therefore bear with me; for their kind hearts will be delighted to hear every minute thing in relation to Lady Davers and myself.—When Mr. Martin came in the evening, with his friend (who is Sir William G., a polite young gentleman of Lincolnshire), he told us of the praises lavished away upon me by several genteel strangers; one saying to his friend, he had travelled twenty miles to see me.—My Lady Davers was praised too for her goodness to me, and the gracefulness of her person; the countess for the noble serenity of her aspect, and that charming ease and freedom, which distinguished her birth and quality. My dear Mr. B., he said, was greatly admired too: but he would not make him proud; for he had superiorities enough already, that was his word, over his neighbours: "But I can tell you," said he, "that for most of your praises you are obliged to your lady, and for having rewarded her excellence as you have done: for one gentleman," added he, "said, he knew no one but you could deserve her; and he believed you did, from that tenderness in your behaviour to her, and from that grandeur of air, and majesty of person, that seemed to shew you formed for her protector, as well as rewarder.—Get you gone to London, both of you," said he. "I did not intend to tell you, Mr. B., what was said of you." The women of the two ladies had acquainted their ladyships with the order I observed for the day, and the devout behaviour of the servants. And about seven, I withdrawing as silently and as unobserved as I could, was surprised, as I was going through the great hall, to be joined by both.

　　"I shall come at all your secrets, Pamela," said my lady, "and be able, in time, to cut you out in your own way. I know whither you are going."

　　"My good ladies," said I, "pardon me for leaving you. I will attend you in half an hour."

　　"No, my dear," said Lady Davers, "the countess and I have resolved to attend you for that half hour, and we will return to company together."

　　"Is it not descending too much, my ladies, as to the company?"—"If it is for us, it is for you," said the countess; "so we will either act up to you, or make you come down to us; and we will judge of all your proceedings."

　　Every one, but Abraham (who attended the gentlemen), and all their ladyships' servants, and their two women, were there; which pleased me, however, because it shewed, that even the strangers, by this their second voluntary attendance, had no ill opinion of the service. But they were all startled, ours and theirs, to see the ladies accompanying me.

　　I stept up to Mr. Adams.—"I was in hopes. Sir," said I, "we should have been favoured with your company at our table." He bowed.—"Well, Sir," said I, "these ladies come to be obliged to you for your good offices; and you'll have no better way of letting them return their obligations, than to sup, though you would not dine with them."—"Mr. Longman," said my lady, "how do you do?—We are come to be witnesses of the family decorum."—"We have a blessed lady, Madam," said he: "and your ladyship's presence augments our joys."

　　I should have said, we were not at church in the afternoon; and when I do not go, we have the evening service read to us, as it is at church; which Mr. Adams performed now, with his usual distinctness and fervour.

　　When all was concluded, I said, "Now, my dearest ladies, excuse me for the sake of the delight I take in seeing all my good folks about me in this decent and obliging manner.—Indeed, I have no ostentation in it, if I know my own heart."

　　The countess and Lady Davers, delighted to see such good behaviour in every one, sat a moment or two looking upon one another in silence; and then my Lady Davers took my hand: "Beloved, deservedly beloved of the kindest of husbands, what a blessing art thou to this family!"—"And to every family," said the countess, "who have the happiness to know, and the grace to follow, her example!"—"But where," said Lady Davers, "collectedst thou all this good sense, and fine spirit in thy devotion?"—"The Bible," said I, "is the foundation of all."—Lady Davers then turning herself to Mrs. Jervis—"How do you, good woman?" said she. "Why you are now made ample amends for the love you bore to this dear creature formerly."

　　"You have an angel, and not a woman, for your lady, my good Mrs. Jervis," said the countess.

　　Mrs. Jervis, folding her uplifted hands together—"O my good lady, you know not our happiness; no, not one half of it. We were before blessed with plenty, and a bountiful indulgence, by our good master; but our plenty brought on wantonness and wranglings: but now we have peace as well as plenty; and peace of mind, my dear lady, in doing all in our respective powers, to shew ourselves thankful creatures to God, and to the best of masters and mistresses."

　　"Good soul!" said I, and was forced to put my handkerchief to my eyes: "your heart is always overflowing thus with gratitude and praises, for what you so well merit from us."

　　"Mr. Longman," said my lady, assuming a sprightly air, although her eye twinkled, to keep within its lids the precious water, that sprang from a noble and well-affected heart, "I am glad to see you here, attending your pious young lady.—Well might you love her, honest man!—I did not know there was so excellent a creature in any rank."

　　"Madam," said the other worthy heart, unable to speak but in broken sentences, "you don't know—indeed you don't, what a—what a—hap—happy—family we are!—Truly, we are like unto Alexander's soldiers, every one fit to be a general; so well do we all know our duties, and practise them too, let me say.—Nay, and please your ladyship, we all of us long till morning comes, thus to attend my lady; and after that is past, we long for evening, for the same purpose: for she is so good to us—You cannot think how good she is! But permit your honoured father's old servant to say one word more, that though we are always pleased and joyful on these occasions; yet we are in transports to see our master's noble sister thus favouring us—with your ladyship too," (to the countess)—"and approving our young lady's conduct and piety."

　　"Blessing on you all!" said my lady. "Let us go, my lady;—let us go, sister, for I cannot stop any longer!"

　　As I slid by, following their ladyships—"How do you, Mr. Colbrand?" said I softly: "I feared you were not well in the morning." He bowed—"Pardon me, Madam—I was leetel indispose, dat ish true!"

　　Now, my dear friend, will you forgive me all this self-praise, as it may seem?—Yet when you know I give it you, and my dear parents, as so many instances of my Lady Davers's reconciliation and goodness to me, and as it will shew what a noble heart she has at bottom, when her pride of quality and her passion have subsided, and her native good sense and excellence taken place, I flatter myself, I may be the rather excused; and especially, as I hope to have your company and countenance one day, in this my delightful Sunday employment.

　　I should have added, for I think a good clergyman cannot be too much respected, that I repeated my request to Mr. Adams, to oblige us with his company at supper; but he so very earnestly begged to be excused, and with so much concern of countenance, that I thought it would be wrong to insist upon it; though I was sorry for it, sure as I am that modesty is always a sign of merit.

　　We returned to the gentlemen when supper was ready, as cheerful and easy, Lady Davers observed, as if we had not been present at so solemn a service. "And this," said she, after they were gone, "makes religion so pleasant and delightful a thing, that I profess I shall have a much higher opinion of those who make it a regular and constant part of their employment, than ever I had."

　　"Then," said she, "I was once, I remember, when a girl, at the house of a very devout man, for a week, with his granddaughter, my school-fellow; and there were such preachments against vanities, and for self-denials, that were we to have followed the good man's precepts, (though indeed not his practice, for well did he love his belly), half God Almighty's creatures and works would have been useless, and industry would have been banished the earth.

　　"Then," added her ladyship, "have I heard the good man confess himself guilty of such sins, as, if true (and by his hiding his face with his broad-brimmed hat, it looked a little bad against him), he ought to have been hanged on a gallows fifty feet high."

　　These reflections, as I said, fell from my lady, after the gentlemen were gone, when she recounted to her brother, the entertainment, as she was pleased to call it, I had given her. On which she made high encomiums, as did the countess; and they praised also the natural dignity which they imputed to me, saying, I had taught them a way they never could have found out, to descend to the company of servants, and yet to secure, and even augment, the respect and veneration of inferiors at the same time. "And, Pamela," said my lady, "you are certainly very right to pay so much regard to the young clergyman; for that makes all he reads, and all he says, of greater efficacy with the auditors, facilitates the work you have in view to bring about, and in your own absence (for your monarch may not always dispense with you, perhaps) strengthens his influence, and encourages him, beside." MONDAY.

　　I am to thank you, my dear Miss Damford, for your kind letter, approving of my scribble. When you come to my Saturday's and Sunday's accounts, I shall try your patience. But no more of that; for as you can read them, or let them alone, I am the less concerned, especially as they will be more indulgently received somewhere else, than they may merit; so that my labour will not be wholly lost.

　　I congratulate you with all my heart on your dismissing Mr. Murray; I could not help shewing your letter to Mr. B. And what do you think the free gentleman said upon it? I am half afraid to tell you: but do, now you are so happily disengaged, get leave to come, and let us two contrive to be even with him for it. You are the only lady in the world that I would join with against him.

　　He said, that your characters of Mr. Murray and Miss Nancy, which he called severe (but I won't call them so, without your leave), looked a little like petty spite, and as if you were sorry the gentleman took you at your word. That was what he said—Pray let us punish him for it. Yet, he called you charming lady, and said much in your praise, and joined with me, that Mr. Murray, who was so easy to part with you, could not possibly deserve you.

　　"But, Pamela," said he, "I know the sex well enough. Miss Polly may not love Mr. Murray; yet, to see her sister addressed and complimented, and preferred to herself, by one whom she so lately thought she could choose or refuse, is a mortifying thing.—And young ladies cannot bear to sit by neglected, while two lovers are playing pug's tricks with each other.

　　"Then," said he, "all the preparations to matrimony, the clothes to be bought, the visits to be paid and received, the compliments of friends, the busy novelty of the thing, the day to be fixed, and all the little foolish humours and nonsense attending a concluded courtship, when one sister is to engross all the attention and regard, the new equipages, and so forth; these are all subjects of mortification to the other, though she has no great value for the man perhaps."

　　"Well, but, Sir," said I, "a lady of Miss Darnford's good sense, and good taste, is not to be affected by these parades, and has well considered the matter, no doubt; and I dare say, rejoices, rather than repines, at missing the gentleman."

　　I hope you will leave the happy pair (for they are so, if they think themselves so) together, and Sir Simon to rejoice in his accomplished son-in-law elect, and give us your company to London. For who would stay to be vexed by that ill-natured Miss Nancy, as you own you were, at your last writing?—But I will proceed, and the rather, as I have something to tell you of a conversation, the result of which has done me great honour, and given inexpressible delight; of which in its place.

　　We pursued Mr. B.'s proposal, returning several visits in one day; for we have so polite and agreeable a neighbourhood, that all seem desirous to accommodate each other.

　　We came not home till ten in the evening, and then found a letter from Sir Jacob Swynford, uncle by the half blood to Mr. B., acquainting him, that hearing his niece, Lady Davers, was with him, he would be here in a day or two (being then upon his journey) to pay a visit to both at the same time. This gentleman is very particularly odd and humoursome: and his eldest son being next heir to the maternal estate, if Mr. B. should have no children, was exceedingly dissatisfied with his debasing himself in marrying me; and would have been better pleased had he not married at all, perhaps.

　　There never was any cordial love between Mr. B.'s father and him, nor between the uncle, and nephew and niece: for his positiveness, roughness, and self-interestedness too, has made him, though very rich, but little agreeable to the generous tempers of his nephew and niece; yet when they meet, which is not above once in four or five years, they are very civil and obliging to him. Lady Davers wondered what could bring him hither now: for he lives in Herefordshire, and seldom stirs ten miles from home. Mr. B. said, he was sure it was not to compliment him and me on our nuptials. "No, rather," said my lady, "to satisfy himself if you are in a way to cut out his own cubs."—"Thank God, we are," said he. "Whenever I was strongest set against matrimony, the only reason I had to weigh against my dislike to it was, that I was unwilling to leave so large a part of my estate to that family. My dear," said he to me, "don't be uneasy; but you'll see a relation of mine much more disagreeable than you can imagine; but no doubt you have heard his character."

　　"Ah, Pamela," said Lady Davers, "we are a family that value ourselves upon our ancestry; but, upon my word, Sir Jacob, and all his line, have nothing else to boast of. And I have been often ashamed of my relation to them."—"No family, I believe, my lady, has every body excellent in it," replied I: "but I doubt I shall stand but poorly with Sir Jacob."

　　"He won't dare to affront you, my dear," said Mr. B., "although he'll say to you, and to me, and to my sister too, blunt and rough things. But he'll not stay above a day or two, and we shall not see him again for some years to come; so we'll bear with him."

　　I am now, Miss, coming to the conversation I hinted at. TUESDAY.

　　On Tuesday, Mr. Williams came to pay his respects to his kind patron. I had been to visit a widow gentlewoman, and, on my return, went directly to my closet, so knew not of his being here till I came to dinner; for Mr. B. and he were near two hours in discourse in the library. When I came down, Mr. B. presented him to me. "My friend Mr. Williams, my dear," said he. "Mr. Williams, how do you do?" said I; "I am glad to see you."

　　He rejoiced, he said, to see me look so well; and had longed for an opportunity to pay his respects to his worthy patron and me before: but had been prevented twice when upon the point of setting out. Mr. B. said, "I have prevailed upon my old acquaintance to reside with us, while he stays in these parts. Do you, my dear, see that every thing is made agreeable to him."—"To be sure, Sir, I will."

　　Mr. Adams being in the house, Mr. B. sent to desire he would dine with us: if it were but in respect to a gentleman of the same cloth, who gave us his company.

　　Mr. B., when dinner was over, and the servants were withdrawn, said, "My dear, Mr. Williams's business, in part, was to ask my advice as to a living that is offered him by the Earl of ——, who is greatly taken with his preaching and conversation." "And to quit yours, I presume, Sir," said Lord Davers. "No, the earl's is not quite so good as mine, and his lordship would procure him a dispensation to hold both. What would you advise, my dear?"

　　"It becomes not me, Sir, to meddle with such matters as these."—"Yes, my dear, it does, when I ask your opinion."—"I beg pardon, Sir.—My opinion then is, that Mr. Williams will not care to do any thing that requires a dispensation, and which would be unlawful without it."—"Madam," said Mr. Williams, "you speak exceedingly well."

　　"I am glad, Mr. Williams, that you approve of my sentiments, required of me by one who has a right to command me in every thing: otherwise this matter is above my sphere; and I have so much good will to Mr. Williams, that I wish him every thing that will contribute to make him happy."

　　"Well, my dear," said Mr. B., "but what would you advise in this case? The earl proposes, that Mr. Williams's present living be supplied by a curate; to whom, no doubt, Mr. Williams will be very genteel; and, as we are seldom or never there, his lordship thinks we shall not be displeased with it, and insists upon proposing it to me; as he has done."

　　Lord Davers said, "I think this may do very well, brother. But what, pray, Mr. Williams, do you propose to allow to your curate? Excuse me, Sir, but I think the clergy do so hardly by one another generally, that they are not to be surprised that some of the laity treat them as they do."

　　Said Mr. B., "Tell us freely, Pamela, what you would advise your friend Mr. Williams to do."

　　"And must I, Sir, speak my mind on such a point, before so many better judges?"

　　"Yes, sister," said her ladyship (a name she is now pleased to give me freely before strangers, after her dear brother's example, who is kindest, though always kind, at such times) "you must; if I may be allowed to say must."—"Why then," proceeded I, "I beg leave to ask Mr. Williams one question; that is, whether his present parishioners do not respect and esteem him in that particular manner, which I think every body must, who knows his worth?"

　　"I am very happy. Madam, in the good-will of all my parishioners, and have great acknowledgments to make for their civilities to me."—"I don't doubt," said I, "but it will be the same wherever you go; for bad as the world is, a prudent and good clergyman will never fail of respect. But, Sir, if you think your ministry among them is attended with good effects; if they esteem your person with a preference, and listen to your doctrines with attention; methinks, for their sakes, 'tis pity to leave them, were the living of less value, as it is of more, than the other. For, how many people are there who can benefit by one gentleman's preaching, rather than by another's; although, possibly, the one's abilities may be no way inferior to the other's? There is much in a delivery, as it is called, in a manner, a deportment, to engage people's attention and liking; and as you are already in possession of their esteem, you are sure to do much of the good you aim and wish to do. For where the flock loves the shepherd, all the work is easy, and more than half done; and without that, let him have the tongue of an angel, and let him live the life of a saint, he will be heard with indifference, and, oftentimes, as his subject may be, with disgust."

　　I paused here; but every one being silent—"As to the earl's friendship, Sir," continued I, "you can best judge what force that ought to have upon you; and what I have mentioned would be the only difficulty with me, were I in Mr. Williams's case. To be sure, it will be a high compliment to his lordship, and so he ought to think it, that you quit a better living to oblige him. And he will be bound in honour to make it up to you. For I am far from thinking that a prudent regard to worldly interest misbecomes the character of a good clergyman; and I wish all such were set above the world, for their own sakes, as well as for the sakes of their hearers; since independency gives a man respect, besides the power of doing good, which will enhance that respect, and of consequence, give greater efficacy to his doctrines.

　　"As to strengthening of a good man's influence, a point always to be wished, I would not say so much as I have done, if I had not heard Mr. Longman say, and I heard it with great pleasure, that the benefice Mr. Williams so worthily enjoys is a clear two hundred pounds a year.

　　"But, after all, does happiness to a gentleman, a scholar, a philosopher, rest in a greater or lesser income? On the contrary, is it not oftener to be found in a happy competency or mediocrity? Suppose my dear Mr. B. had five thousand pounds a year added to his present large income, would that increase his happiness? That it would add to his cares, is no question; but could it give him one single comfort which he has not already? And if the dear gentleman had two or three thousand less, might he be less happy on that account? No, surely; for it would render a greater prudence on my humble part necessary, and a nearer inspection, and greater frugality, on his own; and he must be contented (if he did not, as now, perhaps, lay up every year) so long as he lived within his income.—And who will say, that the obligation to greater prudence and economy is a misfortune?

　　"The competency, therefore, the golden mean, is the thing; and I have often considered the matter, and endeavoured to square my actions by the result of that consideration. For a person who, being not born to an estate, is not satisfied with a competency, will probably know no limits to his desires. One whom an acquisition of one or two hundred pounds a year will not satisfy, will hardly sit down contented with any sum. For although he may propose to himself at a distance, that such and such an acquisition will be the height of his ambition; yet he will, as he approaches to that, advance upon himself farther and farther, and know no bound, till the natural one is forced upon him, and his life and his views end together.

　　"Now let me humbly beg pardon of you all, ladies and gentlemen," turning my eyes to each; "but most of you, my good lady."

　　"Indeed, Madam," said Mr. Williams, "after what I have heard from you, I would not, for the world, have been of another mind."

　　"You are a good man," said I; "and I have such an opinion of your worthiness, and the credit you do your function, that I can never suspect either your judgment or your conduct. But pray, Sir, may I ask, what have you determined to do?"—"Why, Madam," replied he, "I am staggered in that too, by the observation you just now made, that where a man has the love of his parishioners, he ought not to think of leaving them."—"Else, Sir, I find you was rather inclined to oblige the earl, though the living be of less value! This is very noble, Sir; it is more than generous."

　　"My dear," said Mr. B., "I'll tell you (for Mr. Williams's modesty will not let him speak it before all the company) what is his motive; and a worthy one you'll say it is. Excuse me, Mr. Williams;"—for the reverend gentleman blushed.

　　"The earl has of late years—we all know his character—given himself up to carousing, and he will suffer no man to go from his table sober. Mr. Williams has taken the liberty to expostulate, as became his function, with his lordship on this subject, and upon some other irregularities, so agreeably, that the earl has taken a great liking to him, and promises, that he will suffer his reasonings to have an effect upon him, and that he shall reform his whole household, if he will come and live near him, and regulate his table by his own example. The countess is a very good lady, and privately presses Mr. Williams to oblige the earl: and this is our worthy friend's main inducement; with the hope, which I should mention, that he has, of preserving untainted the morals of the two young gentlemen, the earl's son, who, he fears, will be carried away by the force of such an example: and he thinks, as the earl's living has fallen, mine may be better supplied than the earl's, if he, as he kindly offers, gives it me back again; otherwise the earl, as he apprehends, will find out for his, some gentleman, if such an one can be found, as will rather further, than obstruct his own irregularities, as was the unhappy case of the last incumbent."

　　"Well," said Lady Davers, "I shall always have the highest respect for Mr. Williams, for a conduct so genteel and so prudent. But, brother, will you—and will you, Mr. Williams—put this whole affair into Mrs. B.'s hands, since you have such testimonies, both of you, of the rectitude of her thinking and acting?"—"With all my heart, Madam," replied Mr. Williams; "and I shall be proud of such a direction,"—"What say you, brother? You are to suppose the living in your own hands again; will you leave the whole matter to my sister here?"—"Come, my dear," said Mr. B., "let us hear how you'd wish it to be ordered. I know you have not need of one moment's consideration, when once you are mistress of a point."

　　"Nay," said Lady Davers, "that is not the thing. I repeat my demand: shall it be as Mrs. B. lays it out, or not?"—"Conditionally," said Mr. B., "provided I cannot give satisfactory reasons, why I ought not to conform to her opinion; for this, as I said, is a point of conscience with me; and I made it so, when I presented Mr. Williams to the living: and have not been deceived in that presentation."—"To be sure," said I, "that is very reasonable, Sir; and on that condition, I shall the less hesitate to speak my mind, because I shall be in no danger to commit an irreparable error."

　　"I know well, Lady Davers," added Mr. B., "the power your sex have over ours, and their subtle tricks: and so will never, in my weakest moments, be drawn in to make a blindfold promise. There have been several instances, both in sacred and profane story, of mischiefs done by such surprises: so you must allow me to suspect myself, when I know the dear slut's power over me, and have been taught, by the inviolable regard she pays to her own word, to value mine—And now, Pamela, speak all that is in your heart to say." "With your requisite condition in my eye, I will, Sir. But let me see that I state the matter right. And, preparative to it, pray, Mr. Williams, though you have not been long in possession of this living, yet, may-be, you can compute what it is likely, by what you know of it, to bring in clear?"

　　"Madam," said he, "by the best calculation I can make—I thank you for it, good Sir—it may, one year with another, be reckoned at three hundred pounds per annum; and is the best within twenty miles of it, having been improved within these two last years."

　　"If it was five hundred pounds, and would make you happier—(for that, Sir, is the thing) I should wish it you," said I, "and think it short of your merits. But pray, Sir, what is the earl's living valued at?"

　　"At about two hundred and twenty pounds, Madam."—"Well, then," replied I, very pertly, "I believe now I have it.

　　"Mr. Williams, for motives most excellently worthy of his function, inclines to surrender up to Mr. B. his living of three hundred pounds per annum, and to accept of the earl's living of two hundred and twenty. Dear Sir, I am going to be very bold; but under your condition nevertheless:—let the gentleman, to whom you shall present the living of E. allow eighty pounds per annum out of it to Mr. Williams, till the earl's favour shall make up the difference to him, and no longer. And—but I dare not name the gentleman:—for how, dear Sir, were I to be so bold, shall I part with my chaplain?"—"Admirable! most admirable!" said Lord and Lady Davers, in the same words. The countess praised the decision too; and Mr. H. with his "Let me be hang'd," and his "Fore Gad's," and such exclamations natural to him, made his plaudits. Mr. Williams said, he could wish with all his heart it might be so; and Mr. Adams was so abashed and surprised, that he could not hold up his head;—but joy danced in his silent countenance, for all that.

　　Mr. B. having hesitated a few minutes. Lady Davers called out for his objection, or consent, according to condition, and he said, "I cannot so soon determine as that prompt slut did. I'll withdraw one minute."

　　He did so, as I found afterwards to advise, like the considerate and genteel spirit he possesses, with Mr. Williams, whom he beckoned out, and to examine whether he was in earnest willing to give it up, or very desirous for any one to succeed him; saying, that if he had, he thought himself obliged, in return for his worthy behaviour to him, to pay a particular regard to his recommendation. And so being answered as he desired, in they came together again.

　　But I should say, that his withdrawing with a very serious aspect, made me afraid I had gone too far: and I said, "What shall I do, if I have incurred Mr. B.'s anger by my over-forwardness! Did he not look displeased? Dear ladies, if he be so, plead for me, and I'll withdraw when he comes in; for I cannot stand his anger: I have not been used to it."

　　"Never fear, Pamela," said my lady; "he can't be angry at any thing you say or do. But I wish, for the sake of what I have witnessed of Mr. Adams's behaviour and modesty, that such a thing could be done for him." Mr. Adams bowed, and said, "O my good ladies! 'tis too considerable a thing: I cannot expect it—I do not—it would be presumption if I did."

　　Just then re-entered Mr. B. and Mr. Williams: the first with a stately air, the other with a more peace-portending smile on his countenance.

　　But Mr. B. sitting down, "Well, Pamela," said he, very gravely, "I see that power is a dangerous thing in any hand."—"Sir, Sir!" said I—"My dear lady," whispering to Lady Davers, "I will withdraw, as I said I would." And I was getting away as fast as I could: but he arose and took my hand, "Why is my charmer so soon frightened?" said he, most kindly; and still more kindly, with a noble air, pressed it to his lips. "I must not carry my jest too far upon a mind so apprehensive, as I otherwise might be inclined to do." And leading me to Mr. Adams and Mr. Williams, he said, taking Mr. Williams's hand with his left, as he held mine in his right, "Your worthy brother clergyman, Mr. Adams, gives me leave to confirm the decision of my dear wife, whom you are to thank for the living of E. upon the condition she proposed; and may you give but as much satisfaction there, as you have done in this family, and as Mr. Williams has given to his flock; and they will then be pleased as much with your ministry as they have hitherto been with his."

　　Mr. Adams trembled with joy, and said, he could not tell how to bear this excess of goodness in us both: and his countenance and eyes gave testimony of a gratitude too high for further expression.

　　As for myself, you, my honoured and dear friends, who know how much I am always raised, when I am made the dispenser of acts of bounty and generosity to the deserving; and who now instead of incurring blame, as I had apprehended, found myself applauded by every one, and most by the gentleman whose approbation I chiefly coveted to have: you, I say, will judge how greatly I must be delighted.

　　But I was still more affected, when Mr. B. directing himself to me, and to Mr. Williams at the same time, was pleased to say, "Here, my dear, you must thank this good gentleman for enabling you to give such a shining proof of your excellence: and whenever I put power into your hands for the future, act but as you have now done, and it will be impossible that I should have any choice or will but yours."

　　"O Sir," said I, pressing his hand with my lips, forgetting how many witnesses I had of my grateful fondness, "how shall I, oppressed with your goodness, in such a signal instance as this, find words equal to the gratitude of my heart!—But here," patting my bosom, "just here, they stick;—and I cannot—"

　　And, indeed, I could say no more; and Mr. B. in the delicacy of his apprehensiveness for me, led me into the next parlour; and placing himself by me on the settee, said, "Take care, my best beloved, that the joy, which overflows your dear heart, for having done a beneficent action to a deserving gentleman, does not affect you too much."

　　My Lady Davers followed us: "Where is my angelic sister?" said she. "I have a share in her next to yourself, my noble brother." And clasping me to her generous bosom, she ran over with expressions of favour to me, in a style and words, which would suffer, were I to endeavour to repeat them.

　　Coffee being ready, we returned to the company. My Lord Davers was pleased to make me a great many compliments, and so did Mr. H. after his manner. But the countess exceeded herself in goodness.

　　Mr. B. was pleased to say, "It is a rule with me, not to leave till to-morrow what can be done to-day:—and when, my dear, do you propose to dispense with Mr. Adams's good offices in your family? Or did you intend to induce him to go to town with us?"

　　"I had not proposed anything, Sir, as to that, for I had not asked your kind direction: but the good dean will supply us, I doubt not, and when we set out for London, Mr. Adams will be at full liberty, with his worthy friend, Mr. Williams, to pursue the happy scheme your goodness has permitted to take effect."

　　"Mr. Adams, my dear, who came so lately from the university, can, perhaps, recommend such another young gentleman as himself, to perform the functions he used to perform in your family."

　　I looked, it seems, a little grave; and Mr. B. said, "What have you to offer, Pamela?—What have I said amiss?"

　　"Amiss! dear Sir!—"

　　"Ay, and dear Madam too! I see by your bashful seriousness, in place of that smiling approbation which you always shew when I utter any thing you entirely approve, that I have said something which would rather meet with your acquiescence, than choice. So, as I have often told you, none of your reserves; and never hesitate to me your consent in any thing, while you are sure I will conform to your wishes, or pursue my own liking, as either shall appear reasonable to me, when I have heard your reasons."

　　"Why, then, dear Sir, what I had presumed to think, but I submit it to your better judgment, was, whether, since the gentleman who is so kind as to assist us in our family devotions, in some measure acts in the province of the worthy dean, it were not right, that our own parish-minister, whether here or in London, should name, or at least approve our naming, the gentleman?"

　　"Why could not I have thought of that, as well as you, sauce-box?—Lady Davers, I am entirely on your side: I think she deserves a slap now from us both."

　　"I'll forgive her," said my lady, "since I find her sentiments and actions as much a reproof to others as to me."

　　"Mr. Williams, did you ever think," said Mr. B., "it would have come to this?—Did you ever know such a saucy girl in your life?—Already to give herself these reproaching airs?"—"No, never, if your honour is pleased to call the most excellent lady in the world by such a name, nor any body else."

　　"Pamela, I charge you," said the dear gentleman, "if you study for it, be sometimes in the wrong, that one may not always be taking lessons from such an assurance; but in our turns, have something to teach you."

　　"Then, dear Sir," said I, "must I not be a strange creature? For how, when you, and my good ladies, are continually giving me such charming examples, can I do a wrong thing?"

　　I hope you will forgive me, my dear, for being so tedious on the foregoing subject, and its most agreeable conclusion. It is an important one, because several persons, as conferers or receivers, have found their pleasure and account in it; and it would be well, if conversation were often attended with like happy consequences. I have one merit to plead in behalf even of my prolixity; that in reciting the delightful conferences I have the pleasure of holding with our noble guests and Mr. B., I am careful not to write twice upon one topic, although several which I omit, may be more worthy of your notice than those I give; so that you have as much variety from me, as the nature of the facts and cases will admit of.

　　But here I will conclude, having a very different subject, as a proof of what I have advanced, to touch in my next. Till when, I am your most affectionate and faithful, P.B. Pamela — Volume 2