University of Virginia Library

Last Thursday, after having concluded
the usual occupations and sedentary amusements
of the day, I walked out, towards evening, to
enjoy the benefit of a cool and fragrant air, and
the serenity and beauty of those rural scenes
which have a powerful tendency to soothe and
tranquillize the mind. When I had rambled in
the fields, to a considerable distance, I crossed
into the road, to return home free from the inconvenience
of the dew, which had begun to fall.

I had not proceeded far, when I observed a
female, who had the appearance of youth and
misfortune, sitting by the wall in a pensive attitude,
with an infant in her lap. When I approached
her, she arose, and in the most humble
and pathetic accents, besought me to direct her
to some shelter, where she might repose her
weary limbs for the night. The aspect and language
of distress awakened my compassion. To
know she really needed charity, was a sufficient
inducement with me to bestow it, without scrupulously
inquiring whether she deserved it or
not. I therefore told her to follow me, and I
would conduct her to a lodging.

As we walked on, I questioned her respecting
the place of her nativity, her parentage, and the

reason of her being reduced to the situation in
which I had found her. She informed me that
she was born in Ireland; that her parents
brought her into this country, before her remembrance;
that while she was very young, they
both died, and left her to the protection and
mercy of strangers; that she was bandied from
one to another, in the village where Providence
had cast her lot, till she was able to earn her
own living: “and since that time,” said she, “I
believe the character of an honest and industrious
girl will not be refused me.” How then,
said I, came you by this incumbrance? pointing
to the child. “In that,” replied she, “I am
verily guilty. Brought up in ignorance of those
principles of decency, virtue and religion, which
have kept you innocent, Madam, I was ruined by
a deceitful man, who, under the mask of love,
and with the most solemn promises of marriage,
betrayed my confidence, and left me to
reap the bitter fruits of my credulity. The
woman where I lived, when she discovered my
situation, ordered me to leave her house immediately.
It was no matter, said she, how much I
suffered, or what became of me. On my own
head, she told me, my iniquity should fall; she
would not lighten the burden, if it were in her
power.

“Some of the neighbours informed me, that
she had reason to be severe upon my fault, being
once in the same condemnation herself.

“Having no friend who could assist me, I applied
to the selection of the town, who provided
for me till I was able to work, and then told me
I must shift for myself; offering, however, to
keep the child, which I refused, being determined
it should never suffer for want of a mother's care,
while I had life.

“I am now wandering in pursuit of employment,
that the labour of my hands may support
myself and little one. This has been often denied
me, either for fear my child should be
troublesome, or because my character was suspected.
I have sometimes suffered so much
from fatigue and want, that I have despaired of
relief, and heartily wished both myself and my
babe in the grave.”

On examination, I found her knowledge confined
entirely to domestic drudgery; that she had
never been taught either to read or write. She
appears, notwithstanding, to have good natural
sense; and a quickness of apprehension, and
readiness of expression, seldom equalled in her
sphere of life.

I conducted her into the kitchen, and desired
she might have supper, and a bed provided for
her. My mamma, whose benevolent heart and
liberal hand are always ready to relieve the necessitous,
was pleased to approve my conduct; and
having kept her through the next day, and observed
her disposition and behaviour, hired her as

a servant; and we have reason to believe, from
her apparent fidelity and grateful exertions, that
our kindness will be well repaid. I have even
extended my charity further, and undertaken to
teach her to read. She is very tractable; and I
expect to be amply rewarded for my labour, by
her improvements.

Indeed, Matilda, it is melancholy to see our
fellow-creatures reared up, like the brute creation;
neither instructed how to live above their
animal appetites, nor how to die as Christians,
when they have finished their toilsome career!

This girl is only seventeen. Her age, therefore,
as well as her docility and submissiveness,
encourage the pleasing hope of restoring her to
the paths of rectitude and peace. I shall endeavour,
as opportunity offers, to instil into her
susceptible mind, the principles of virtue and religion;
and, perhaps, I may lead her to the love
and practice of both, and render her a useful
member of society. Her fate impresses, more
forcibly than ever, on my mind, the importance
of a good education, and the obligations it confers.
Had you or I been subjected to the same
ignorance, and the same temptations, who can
say that we should have conducted better? How
many fall for want of the directing hand of that
parental love and friendship, with which we are
blessed! Contrasting our situation with her's,
how much have we to account for, and how inexcusable

shall we be, if we violate our duty, and
forfeit our dignity, as reasonable creatures!

That extreme bitterness and acrimony, which
is sometimes indulged, against persons who are
unhappily seduced from the way of virtue, may
operate as a discouragement to all designs and endeavours
to regain it: whereas, the soothing
voice of forgiveness, and the consequent prospect
of being restored to reputation and usefulness,
might rouse the attention, and call forth the exertions
of some, at least, who, through despair of
retrieving their characters, abandon themselves
to vice, and adopt a course, alike disgraceful to
their sex, and to human nature.

But, though I advocate the principles of philanthropy
and Christian charity, as extending to
some very special cases, I am far from supposing
this fault generally capable of the least extenuation.
Whatever allowance may be made for
those, whose ignorance occasions their ruin, no
excuse can be offered for others, whose education,
and opportunities for knowing the world and
themselves, have taught them a better lesson.

I need not, however, be at the pains to enforce
this truth upon you: and, as my head is so full
of the subject, that I have no disposition to write
upon any thing else, I will put an end to this incoherent
scroll, by annexing the name of your
sincere and faithful friend,