The Sun.
London, England, 1824-06-05 00:00:00

FOR THE SUN.

THE UNFORTUNATE.—A TALE.
Of chance or change, 0 let not man complain,
Else shall he never, never cease to wail ;
For from the imperial dome to where the swain
Rears the lone cottage in the silent dale,
All feel the assault of Fortune's fickle gale.

BEATTIE.

About two years ago I went to Covent-garden
Theatre, where, the performance being over
early, I determined upon taking a stroll to the
House of Commons to hear a very important de-
bate that, it was supposed, would occupy the
House till between two and three o'clock in the
morning. It was a clear, moonlight night, and,
save the casual shrill cry of the watchmen, and
the noise of the people retiring from the theatre,
a dread repose reigned over the whole city. I
had arrived about the middle of Parliament-
street, when I was accosted by one of those un-
fortunate beings who gain their livelihood in a
manner too well known. I was hurrying on
without regarding her, when she addressed
me by name, and that, too, in accents so
mournfully expressive, that I could not
resist the desire of looking in her face;
when, 0 Heaven ! judge of my astonishment and
dismay, I thought I perceived in her the
emaciated remains of a person whom I had for-
merly known in one of the most distant counties
of England, living in-affluence, innocence, and
beauty. My surmise was but too true—a crowd
of the most distressing recollections appeared to
be passing through her mind. As soo❑ as she
had in some degree recovered from the shock
which my appearance had occasioned her, (blame
me not, ye stoics,) I conveyed her to my lodg-
ings, where every comfort and consolation were
administered to her ; but it was evident that,
either from previous wretchedness, or from the
effect of our unexpected meeting, she was fast
hastening to that final resting-place " where
knowledge nor device corneth."
Her father was a clergyman residing on the
borders of one of the English lakes. Fate or
chance had ordained that I should first see the
light near the the same place ; but it was not till
arrived at maturity that I became acquainted
with him or his family. One clear morning, in
the month of July, I had rise❑ very early, in
order to watch the sun through his first mellow
beams upon the clear bosom of the lake, and had
almost gained the summit of a mountain, from
whence a complete view of it and the surround-
ing scenery might be obtained, when, happening
to cast my eyes a little to the right, I perceived
a gentleman, apparently twice my own age, skip-
ping up the hill with the agility of a roebuck. When
he had gained the summit he paused for breath,
and I had then the opportunity of leisurely ob-
serving him. 'His dress was plain, consisting of
an upper benjamin, a plain black coat, pantaloons
and gaiters; but there was something in his fine,
open countenance and dignified deportment that
immediately proclaimed him a being of no ordi-
nary class. It was the remark of a celebrated
writer, that, be in what company he might, he
never avoided entering into conversation ; for if
his companion were bad, he might be benefitted
by his (the author's) admonitions; and if good,
Ihe himself might derive instruction and amuse-
ment. As this sentiment is always uppermost in
my mind, I had no difficulty in introducing my-
' self to the unknown gentleman. I soon found
that he was the pastor of a small adjoining pa-
rish, where he was well known as a man of
real learning, piety, and benevolence. lie had
formerly occupied a high ecclesiastical station ;
but his wife dying, and leaving him a family of
one son and three daughters (the youngest about
15,) he had retired to this peaceful scene to de-
vote the remainder of a life spent in the practice
of every virtue, to the instruction not only of his
own family, but of all who needed it.
" To them his heart, his love, bis griefs were given,
" But all his serious thoughts had rest in Heaven."
He had resided there about five years, in
the course of which time his daughters had
grown to full maturity, conspicuous in all those
accomplishments which adorn and elevate the fe-
male character ; whilst the son, who was educat-
ing for the church, promised to inherit all the
virtues of his father.

When our first salutations were over, and we
had by insensible degrees become acquainted, he
proposed that I should accompany him home to
breakfast, to which I readily consented ; " I love,"
said he, " to wander abroad on such mornings
as this, for it i then that Nature puts on her
most cheering aspect. The morning of my life
was bright and hopeful ; but that greatest of all
human calamities, the loss of an amiable and af-
fectionate wife, and increasing years and reflec-1

tion, though they have not been able to de-
stroy my cheerfulness, have at least -shewn
me the vanity and insufficiency of human enjoy-
ments ; and all my desire now is to pass the rest
of my life in quiet usefulness, and then sink into
the grave with the consciousness of having done
my duty, and in the fervent hope of mercy and
immortality."
We then turned our steps towards his small,
though elegant dwelling, where I was introduced
to his family, who ail evinced that politeness and 1

superiority of intellect which I had been led to

expect.

From that time I became a constant visitor ;
and our small circle was soon enlivened by the
arrival of a young Lieutenant of Dragoons, with
whom the venerable pastor had been formely ac-
quainted ; and who, happening to pass through a
neighbouring town, had obtained leave of absence
for some.weeks, in order to pay his respects to
his forther friend. Although a young man of
good intentions, it was evident that he possessed
all the vanity that unfledged candidates for mi-
litary fame generally feel ; and having never
been engaged in the bustle or dangers of war, he
knew no more of them than what he had heard

'ram others. He appeared to pay particular at-
.ention to the youngest daughter, Etaza ; and I
'ancied that I could perceive in him the first

dawnings of a passion more tender than that of
friendship towards her, but it did not appear to
be reciprocal. However, those hopes, if he
had ever entertained them, were soo❑ to be an-

nihilated by an event the most awful and Ca'.
lamitous.
One evening, just after the moon had risen,
.and (although a few gentle breezes rustled over
the water) nature gave earnest of a lovely night,
the pastor proposed that we should all take at'
excursion upon the lake. We readily agreed,
small vessel with sails was prepared for the pur-
pose, and we soon embarked. The young Officer,
took his flute on board ; and, as soon as we had
reached about half a mile from the land, he be-
gan playing, whilst ELIZA accompanied him
with her voice. When they had finished,
the Officer proposed that he, the pastor's son, and
his two eldest daughters, should enter a boat
which we had brought out with us, and rog
to a neighbouring island ; whilst the pastor,
Fierza. and myself, should remain- in the vessel.
Not for a moment suspecting any danger, we coy'
sented, the boat was launched,and they embarked'
Scarcely , however, had they done so when
sudden squall drifted them considerably to lee-
ward, and the boat upset ! Neither the pastor,
son nor the Officer could swim, consequentlY
they could not afford assistance to the females,
nor extricate themselves. Our vessel had beers
completely separated from them, and we there-
fore could afford no help. To the first cries of the
females, a calm soon succeeded, and in about
seven minutes we could see no trace whatever of
the unfortunate party ! The pastor sat upon the
deck of the vessel the picture of intense, though.
resigned grief ; the bright moon shone calmly on
as if in mockery of his sorrow ; and the deep red
pose was only interrupted by the audible sobs
of his now only child.
With some difficulty we reached the shore St
the opposite point to that at which we had em-
barked, and after traversing the country for some
miles we separated, and returned home op-
pressed with feelings not to be described.
Next morning the melancholy intelligence
spread through the village—search was made for
the bodies, but no trace whatever was ever dis-
covered of them.
I did not visit the pastor for some time, consi-
dering that his grief and that of his daughter would
sooner find relief if unchecked in its course ; but
on the following Sunday I repaired to church,
and took my seat in a; retired part of it,
anxious to behold with what resignation a
Christian could meet the severest dispensations of
Providence. When he ascended the pulpit, all
eyes were rivetted upon him : there was an ap-
pearance of settled resignation in his countenance,
and he went through the service in his usual calm
and dignified manner. The subjects of his dis-
course were, the uncertainty of earthly enjoy-
ments, and the dangers and absurdity of unbelief.
" If any thing were wanting," sans he, in a tone
of the most affectionate earnestness, 44 to prove
the consolations of a well-grounded belief in a
future state, let it be found in me,. who have sa-
crificed all worldly feelings at the altar of Faith,
who have parted with fortitude from those who
were dear to me here, because I feel certain of
meeting them hereafter. But Ido not derive
these comforts from any merits of my own, it
the goodness and mercy of the Supreme Being
which alone bestowed them upon me. Had
deed, disbelieved the Scriptures, how different
would have been my condition ! The multitude
of my misfortunes would then have overwhelm-
ed me ; and I should have have gone down to
the dust in utter despair, doubt and darkness."
Soon afterwards, circumstances required my'
attendance and future residence in the Metros
polls. I left the old man and his daughter corns
partitively happy, and heard nothing of either
till I met the latter as before described. Bow
she had arrived in London, or by what means she
had been reduced to that condition, my most
anxious inquiries could never discover; but I am
led to think that seduction, that bane of society,
despising every call of honour, and eluding the
vigilance of the best of fathers, had been the
cause of her ruin. If any one who had known
her in her days of youthful happiness 'and inno-
cence had said that such would be her fate,
should have considered him as the slanderer of fe-
male purity—so little do we known by the pre-
sent day what the events of the morrow may be.
I have since learned that the pastor continues in
his Christian course with unabated zeal and fer-
vency. But although the flowers bloom as usual
in the valley, she who was its brightest ornament
moulders forgotten amidst the noise and tumult
of the city.
Bath, May, 1824. * •