Title: The Juvenile Lavater - or, A Familiar Explanation of the Passions of Le Brun : - Calculated for the Instruction and Entertainment of Young - Persons : Interspersed with Moral and Amusing Tales
Author: Brewer, George
Language: English
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THE JUVENILE LAVATER.


[Illustration]



  The
  JUVENILE LAVATER;

  OR

  _A Familiar Explanation_
  of the
  Passions of Le Brun.

  _Calculated for the_
  Instruction & Entertainment of Young Persons

 _INTERSPERSED WITH_
  Moral and Amusing Tales,

  _Illustrated with 19 Plates._

  _BY GEORGE BREWER_,
  Author of Hours of Leisure, Siamese Tales, &c. &c.

  LONDON:
  _Printed at the Minerva Press_.
  FOR A.K. NEWMAN & C^o. LEADENHALL STREET.



CONTENTS

  INTRODUCTION                    i
  PREFACE                       iii

  ATTENTION                       5
  ADMIRATION                     21
  ADMIRATION with ASTONISHMENT   42
  VENERATION                     50
  RAPTURE                        58
  DESIRE                         61
  JOY with TRANQUILLITY          94
  LAUGHTER                      103
  ACUTE PAIN                    117
  SIMPLE BODILY PAIN            120
  SADNESS                       124
  SCORN                         127
  WEEPING                       129
  COMPASSION                    132
  HORROR                        159
  TERROR                        161
  ANGER                         165
  HATRED or JEALOUSY            167
  DESPAIR                       170



  JUVENILE LAVATER;

  OR,

  A FAMILIAR EXPLANATION
  OF THE
  PASSIONS OF LE BRUN,

  CALCULATED FOR THE
  _Instruction and Entertainment of Young Persons_;

  INTERSPERSED WITH
  MORAL AND AMUSING TALES,

  ILLUSTRATING
  THE BENEFIT AND HAPPINESS ATTENDANT ON THE
  GOOD PASSIONS,

  AND

  _THE MISFORTUNES WHICH ENSUE THE BAD, IN
  THE CIRCUMSTANCES OF LIFE_.

  BY GEORGE BREWER,
  _Author of Hours of Leisure, Siamese Tales, &c. &c._

  _LONDON:_
  Printed at the Minerva Press,
  FOR A. K. NEWMAN AND CO.
  Leadenhall Street.



INTRODUCTION.

_To PARENTS, and the GUARDIANS of YOUTH._


The Doctrine of Physiognomy, as attempted to be established by the
ingenious LAVATER, may, in frequent instances, appear chimerical; but
there is a Physiognomy, the rules of which are always true, and whose
evidences are of service to morality. The deformed Passions,
disagreeable in their appearance, and dangerous in their consequences,
are of a character that may be easily understood, and the features of
ugliness so faithfully described to the pupil, as to cause him to avoid
vice, since it has such frightful representations as would make him
hateful to himself and to others, and in consequence prefer those
Passions which bestow on the countenance the beautiful and placid
features of a good and quiet mind.



PREFACE.


When it is considered, that in the indulgence of the good or bad
Passions of the Human Mind, depends the happiness or misery of mankind,
I shall not be accused of having chosen a subject beneath the province
of my pen; I shall, on the other hand, have my fears even of being
unequal to the task. I indulge, however, a hope, that aided by the
talents of the inimitable LE BRUN, I may be able to place an inscription
at least, beneath the portraits he has so admirably delineated, and
which may have some effect on the mind of the young reader, who, when he
observes that the _best_ people look _best_ and most happy, will be
inclined to become of the _best_.



LECTURE ON THE _PASSIONS_, &c.


A few years ago, there lived a gentleman, in the West of England, whose
name was Willock: he was married to a very amiable lady, and had five
children--three boys and two girls; the boys were named John, William,
and Henry; and the girls, Caroline and Louisa. Mr. Willock was possessed
of a very handsome fortune, but preferred a country to a town life, as
he was very domestic, and his lady equally fond of retirement. The young
people were brought up in the love of God, and of their parents; and
their dispositions were so good, that it was very seldom, indeed, that
either their father or mother had occasion to find fault with them; so
that perhaps there was not any where to be found a more happy family.

Mr. Willock was very fond of his sons and daughters; and, though he was
a man of learning and taste, frequently indulged them with amusements,
which he had the goodness to provide; but these entertainments were
always such as were blended with instruction.

The _young persons_ of Mr. Willock's family were frequently visited by
the _young persons_ of another family, the sons and daughters of a Mr.
Trevor, who resided in the neighbourhood.

It happened one autumn, that Mr. Willock had promised that he would
produce some new entertainment for his young friends, as soon as the
evenings should begin to lengthen; which intimation was not forgotten by
Henry, who was a very clever boy, but rather too impatient.--Henry
eagerly watched for the evenings getting longer; and an observation
which his father accidentally made one day on the subject, was enough
for Henry: he went immediately to his mother, who was seated at the
fireside at work, and whispered her to remind Mr. Willock of his
promise, which was instantly understood by all the rest of the young
people; and "Do, mamma," was repeated by one after the other. Mr.
Willock guessed, without much difficulty, at what was going on, and,
without saying a word, rose up and walked to a table, on which was
placed his letter-case, out of which he took a very handsome, small, red
morocco port-folio. John, William, Henry, Caroline, Louisa, and the two
young visitors, were all at once engaged in a very respectful manner,
for they did not say a word, watching Mr. Willock, with their eyes
sparkling with pleasure and expectation. At length Mr. Willock drew a
chair, and sitting down, told all the young people to draw round the
table, and that he would shew them something which would please them
very much. Henry's eyes were as bright as two stars at this
intelligence. "What is it, papa?" was the next question.--"This book, my
dears," said he, "contains some very curious engravings, the Portraits
of the Passions of the Human Mind, drawn by a very great French artist,
named LE BRUN; but I will explain them to you as I go on. Now then
(continued he, opening the book), the entertainment begins." At these
words, he turned over one of the leaves, and presented the portrait of

ATTENTION.

"Oh dear!" was now the general exclamation among the young people, while
the eyes of all of them were in an instant fixed on the same object.
"Pray, sir, whose portrait is that?" cried John, the eldest boy.--"That,
my dear," said Mr. Willock, "is your face, and the face of all of you at
this moment."--"Indeed, papa," cried Henry, "you are only jesting with
us; for I am sure that it is not in the least like me."--"Well then,"
said Mr. Willock, "look at your brother William, and tell me if it is
not like him."--"Yes, indeed, papa," cried Henry; "he makes just such
another face."--"True, my dear Henry," returned Mr. Willock; "and so do
_each_ of you; because this is the face of _Attention_, which _each_ of
you show at this moment. Only observe how the eyebrows sink and approach
the sides of the nose--how the eyeballs turn towards the object of
notice--how the mouth opens, and especially the upper part--how the head
declines a little, and becomes fixed in that posture, without any
remarkable alteration--such," said he, "is the portrait of _Attention_,
drawn by Le Brun.

"But now, my dear children," continued Mr. Willock, "as I have showed
you the picture of _Attention_, it will be proper that I should describe
the passion to you. _Attention_ is implanted in us by nature, as the
means by which we may become acquainted with the objects of our
curiosity, and is a virtue, whenever a proper object is selected. The
face is then always interesting, however intent it may appear; but it is
the choice of a proper object which can alone make this passion of
value, and truly estimable. _Attention_ is therefore either praiseworthy
or not, according to the object it selects. Praiseworthy Attentions are
chiefly as follow:--

"_Attention_ to the duties of religion.

"_Attention_ of children to parents.

"_Attention_ of young people to their studies.

"_Attention_ to our friends and acquaintance.

"_Attention_ to the sick.

"_Attention_ to business.

"_Attention_ to dress.

"_Attention_ to the duties of religion, such as praying to God, and
attending the divine service, is not only the most delightful
_Attention_ that can be paid, but is of most advantage to us, as by it
we secure the blessing of Providence upon our actions, and it is only a
preparation for the numerous comforts we enjoy.

"_Attention_ of children to parents who have taken care of them from
infancy, being a proof of a grateful mind, is always lovely and
praiseworthy.

"_Attention_ of young people to their studies is the only way for them
to acquire improvement, for without it they must remain for ever in
ignorance; for instance, if, when I shewed you this portrait, you were
all the time playing, or thinking of something else, you could never
know what _Attention_ meant, nor the advantages to be gained by it.

"_Attention_ to our friends and acquaintance, particularly to the aged,
is not only a duty, but shows our politeness and good breeding.

"_Attention_ to the sick is required from us by the precepts of
religion, and by the need we may some day have for such _Attention_
ourselves.

"_Attention_ to business merely consists in minding what we have got to
do, and is always rewarded with profit.

"_Attention_ to dress is necessary, as far as relates to cleanliness and
propriety, but no further; and you will observe, that there are many
other Attentions which rank before it.

"There is another _Attention_, which may be called _Attention_ to
trifles, which ought only to be paid when there is not any thing more
worthy of our regard which ought to have the preference.

"But as you have all of you been so attentive, I will tell you a story,
which will show you the great virtue and use of _Attention_,

"Charles and George were twin brothers, the children of Mr. Wilson, a
gentleman of small income, but who had nevertheless given them an
excellent education. Both Charles and George were boys of naturally good
dispositions; but Charles was careless, and George thoughtful: George
always paid attention to what was said to him, and Charles did not.
Charles was clever, and George rather dull; but the attention which
George paid to his studies was so great, that he presently got the start
of his brother. Charles was very much astonished when he found that
George understood Latin better than himself, and was not aware that his
deficiency was entirely owing to the want of _Attention_.

"One day, when George and Charles were both of them very young, their
father, who was a wise and good man, made each of them a present of a
duplicate of this portrait, with strict injunctions to keep them safe,
and to look at them often.

"George had made a great many friends when young, by the _Attention_ he
was always disposed to pay to his acquaintance, and particularly one old
gentleman, who was very infirm, and who received his civilities with
great kindness; Charles, on the contrary, as he did not care for any
one, so there were very few but his parents who cared for him.

"At length George and Charles were both of them sent into the world, and
placed in the counting-houses of merchants of eminence, who were friends
of Mr. Wilson.--George immediately began to pay _Attention_ to business,
and Charles was as _inattentive_ as ever. George was always employed,
and Charles did nothing but follow pleasure. Now there is not any thing
more agreeable than amusement, when it does not interfere with business;
but at the same time, there is not any thing that can be more dangerous,
when it does.

"In a few years, Charles and George were established in business as
Leghorn merchants, by the liberality of their father, who left himself
but a very small income to live upon. Mr. Wilson had, however, the
pleasure to see both his children well circumstanced, and in a way of
making fortunes, before his death, which happened shortly after.

"George paid so much attention to his concerns, that he was already in a
way of getting rich; and, in addition to his own industry, he had the
pleasure to reap the benefit of his kindness and attention to the infirm
old gentleman, who died about this time, and left him his whole
property.

"Charles, during the whole time of his being in London, had not visited
his brother more than three times; and though George had frequently
called to see him, he never took any notice of his kindness, but
altogether neglected him. Charles was engaged wholly in folly and
extravagance, and was going on in a very bad way; in short, his concerns
had been so mismanaged that he was on the point of becoming a bankrupt.

"One day, Charles returned home to his house, in great distress of mind,
as he had not been able to make up a payment on which his credit
depended. He had occasion to examine his desk to find some papers of
consequence, when, in his search, he happened to lay his hand upon, and
unrolled the _neglected_ gift of his father, the portrait of
_Attention_.

"Charles burst into tears when he beheld the picture, and threw himself
in an agony of despair upon his bed, when a letter was brought him by
the servant from an acquaintance, which informed him that his brother
George was very ill. Charles, for the first time in his life, felt that
he had neglected his brother, for the portrait of _Attention_ had made
an impression upon his mind. He arose immediately, and went to the house
of Mr. George Wilson, but found that he kept his bed: he was however
admitted; and George, who had not expected such a visitor, was nearly
overcome at the sight of his brother. They embraced: and Charles, who
had happened to have heard of a case similar to his brother's which had
been managed with great success by his own physician, sent for him,
while he remained at the bed-side. In the course of conversation, George
inquired very kindly after the state of his brother's affairs, and told
him, that he hoped he was going on prosperously. Charles, with a heart
full of pain, only gave evasive answers; and on his brother's insisting
that something pressed on his spirits, took his leave.

"Mr. George Wilson presently got well by the advice of the physician, who
understood his case perfectly; and the very first thing that he did was
to call upon his brother Charles, to thank him for his kind _Attention_,
which had been the means of restoring him to health.

"George, having found the door open, walked immediately towards his
brother's counting-house, when he heard some very strong language, and
found his brother engaged in conversation with one of his principal
creditors, who threatened to make him a bankrupt, if he did not
immediately come to a settlement.

"George had been noticed by his brother, and could see, in his turn,
that Charles was sensible that he had heard every thing. George,
therefore, begged of the creditor to acquaint him of the cause of his
treating a merchant of eminence with so little respect. The creditor
made answer, that payment had been put off continually, and that he
would wait no longer. George requested to know the amount of the debt,
which was five thousand pounds, and, with a heart full of love and joy,
sat down instantly at the desk, and having drawn a cheque on his banker
for that amount, put it into the hands of his brother, saying at the
same time, 'My dear Charles, this is but a small return for the kind
_Attention_ you shewed me a few days ago.'--The creditor retired
satisfied, and Charles embraced his brother, while the tears of
gratitude for such a timely assistance flowed from his eyes.

"George now desired to know the real state of his brother's affairs,
which, after some difficulty, he was prevailed upon to disclose, and
which were as bad as they could be. However, such was the prudence and
_Attention_ of Mr. George Wilson, that he soon presented his brother
with a plan, by which, with _Attention_, he might extricate himself.
Charles, thoroughly sensible of his brother's advice, forsook his former
propensities, and paid the necessary _Attention_ to his affairs; when
his difficulties lessened by degrees; and at length he had the pleasure
to find himself out of debt, and is now a rich man.--Thus, my dear
children, you see that the very _first_ mark of _Attention_ of Charles
was blessed with a speedy and successful return of good, and led to
prosperity. It was too much to expect that he should reap as great a
harvest as his brother, because he had been wanting of the same
industry; nevertheless, as soon as he determined to be industrious and
careful, he found that--To _pay_ Attention, is to _receive_ Profit."

The young people had been extremely attentive during the whole time that
Mr. Willock was relating the history of George and Charles Wilson, and
seemed not only very much pleased with the story, but convinced of the
truth of its moral--that _to pay attention is to receive profit_.

Caroline began now to show some impatience to see the next picture, and
contrived to peep under one corner, when she cried out, "Oh dear! what a
beautiful face!"--It was


ADMIRATION.

[Illustration]

"Yes, my dear (answered Mr. Willock, turning over the leaf), it is
beautiful, because it expresses a good passion, and one that is very
grateful to the mind--the passion of _Admiration_. Do you recollect how
delighted you all were when you were on the sea-coast, and saw the sun
rising above the horizon, and the ships sailing before the wind? what
you then felt was _Admiration_. In the passion of _Admiration_, the mind
is occupied with pleasing thoughts, usually accompanied with love,
esteem, or veneration for the object; and these sensations that give
such a pleasant turn to the features. In this passion (according to Le
Brun), the eyebrow rises; the eye opens a little more than ordinary;
the eyeball, equally between the eyelids, appears fixed on the object;
the mouth half opens; and to this disposition of features, astonishment
only exaggerates a little.

"My dear children," cried Mr. Willock, "I would wish you, as often
as possible, to indulge this passion, as it leads to many
virtues.--_Admiration_ of the objects of nature brings us to the
contemplation of an almighty God, who has filled the universe with
the innumerable wonders of creation; and, indeed, it is the whole
work of _Admiration_ to prove our dependence on him, and his great
power and goodness; for it is impossible, when we view the sun, the
moon, and the numberless stars, the wide ocean, and the extensive
landscapes covered with pasture, and with herds and flocks, not to
reflect, how great and infinitely wise must be the Author of all.
This face of Le Brun, you may observe, appears occupied in some such
contemplation. It is almost the face of devotion.

"Let us see, my dear children, what then are the most worthy objects of
_Admiration_: They may be principally classed,

"_Admiration_ of the beauty and order of the universe.

"_Admiration_ of the power and goodness of the Almighty, who created all
things.

"_Admiration_ of the structure of the human frame, of its strength and
powers, and of the animal world.

"_Admiration_ of the goodness of Providence.

"_Admiration_ of the effects of virtue, particularly of industry.

"_Admiration_ of worth, of courage, genius, talent, and of the works of
art.

"_Admiration_ of the beauty and order of the universe, is the first in
which we become engaged. We see, you know, my dears, the same blessed
sun, the fountain of heat, light, and life, return to us every
day:--clouds may sometimes obscure it, but it soon appears again, to
convince us that its presence is ordered by the Creator, to cherish the
animal world, and every plant and flower that grows. If it is night, and
we view the stars, what can we conjecture but that they must be placed
in the firmament by an Almighty hand? and it is this reflection that
occasioned one of our poets, Dr. Young, to say,

"_An undevout astronomer is mad_;" because he could not believe that any
person who had his senses would not pause with Admiration, and adore the
Being who created these wonders of the heavens. "Go to the window, my
dear William," said Mr. Willock, "and look at them for a moment; they
have just begun to appear."

William went to the window, and all the rest of the young people
followed him. Mr. Willock named to them some of the principal stars;
they were quite delighted; and when he described to them the course of
the planets, and that for many thousand years the same order had been
preserved, their faces showed the disposition of features which belong
to _Admiration_.

After they had perused the stars for a little time, Mr. Willock called
their attention again to the picture. "Let us now, my dear children,"
said he, "consider what must be the power and goodness of the Almighty,
who created all these things; what can we conceive of the hand that
could fix a ball of fire in the heavens, of the magnitude of the sun?
but our _Admiration_ increases when we reflect, that it is that fire
which occasions the plant and the herb to grow. You know, that in the
winter the ground is bare; but when spring appears, and when the sun
approaches to us, it revives nature; and the seed which has been sown
may then be seen sprouting its green heads above the earth: and the
same source it is which gives food to man. How good is all this! and do
you not think that it calls upon us to be devout, that is, to love God,
and to desire to follow his commandments, that the Almighty, who has
given us so many blessings, may continue to bless us with his
Providence, in all we do?

"The next object of our _Admiration_," said Mr. Willock, "is ourselves;
for as David says in the Psalms, 'We are fearfully and wonderfully
made;' and is it not true? Observe, William, the formation of the eye,
the curious make of the fingers, the strength of the muscles; how the
blood circulates through your veins; and then the powers of your mind;
how you can think, how you can reason upon what you hear and see. Is not
all this matter of _Admiration_?

"If," continued Mr. Willock, "we go a step lower, and survey the animal
creation, our _Admiration_ will yet be great: whether we examine the
mighty mammoth, the skeleton of which you saw at the exhibition the
other day, or the little hummingbird, which was shewn you at the museum,
still you must admire. It is true, that we admire also the works of man;
but if we do, they will only bring us back, after all, to think of that
great power which gave to human beings such capacities.

"The goodness of Providence ought to be the next great object of our
_Admiration_, which has fixed on such an order and regularity in the
universe, that it sheds a constant and continual blessing and benefit on
mankind, by the rotation of the seasons, by rains which water the earth,
and by an autumn sun to ripen the corn, and give us a plentiful harvest.

"And, in addition to this general providence, which is for the benefit
of all mankind, the good, by whom I mean those who love God, may rely on
a providence that will guard, protect, and bless them through the day.
Therefore, when you rise in the morning, pray sincerely for that
protection, and you may depend upon having it. Judge Hale, who was a
very good man, used to say, 'that he could always calculate upon the
successes of the next week, by the attention he had paid to the duties
of the Sunday; for,' said he, 'whenever I have passed that day in
admiration of the goodness of God, and have prayed sincerely for his
assistance, I have always found success to follow in my temporal
affairs.' And this subject, he said, he had not considered lightly, but
had been convinced of it from experience.

"But you must not, my dear children, if you have this reliance upon the
goodness of God, ever doubt it, or give way to mistrust, although you
may meet in your future life with crosses and vexations; because, though
you may meet with them, if you have had such a dependence, you may be
sure they are for the best, and because you cannot tell what is the best
for your own happiness. God Almighty is your heavenly father, as I may
be your father on earth; and he loves you with the same care, only with
more knowledge and _power_ to bless and protect you. Now it may have
happened, that when you have wished to take a walk in a warm summer's
day, that I may have forbid it, and that you may have been, of course,
greatly grieved and disappointed; but when in the cool of the evening I
have invited you to taste the refreshing air, you have been much better
pleased; you have discovered my reasons for having forbid it before;
that then it was ill timed, that you might have over-heated yourselves,
and have caught cold; that it would be more pleasant in the evening, and
that I could then spare time to accompany you. Think then, my dear
children, how much more should you yield to the disappointments God
Almighty may place in your way; and when they happen, make yourselves
happy with the best of all comforts, that it is from his goodness.
Besides, when you come to read more of history, and to grow up, and
notice the changes that take place in the lives of your acquaintance,
you will find, that what appears as the severest misfortune, may be the
means of bringing great good. You remember the history of Joseph, in the
Bible; and pray recollect that beautiful story through life. Joseph's
brethren, you know, who envied him, conspired against his life; but his
brother Reuben said, '_do not let us kill him_:' however, they cast him
into a pit in the wilderness, and left him. Now their belief was, that
he would perish; for they never thought that their cruelty would be the
very cause that would bring him to great honour and preferment.--And it
is thus that the evil designs of the wicked are made to produce good,
instead of harm, to the very objects of their hatred. You recollect that
a company of Ishmaelites, coming from Gilead, with the camels, bearing
spicery, and palm, and myrrh, which they were going to carry down to
Egypt, bought him of his brethren, drew him out of the pit, carried him
away with them, and sold him to Potiphar, an officer of Pharaoh, and a
captain of the guard. God Almighty inclined Potiphar to show kindness to
Joseph, and he advanced him: but a second, and greater misfortune was to
happen to Joseph, to produce him still greater good. He is falsely
accused by Potiphar's wife, and thrown into prison, where was also the
butler and baker of Pharaoh. God supplies him with wisdom to interpret
their dreams; he is sent for by Pharaoh, and gives him counsel; the king
promotes him, and makes him ruler over his house. But a yet more
extraordinary work of Providence was to be performed; Joseph was to be
the means of saving the lives of his brothers, who had conspired against
him. There was a great famine in the land of Canaan, where his father
and brothers dwelt; and Jacob sent his ten sons to Egypt for corn; but
as he had loved Joseph, and was afraid some mischief would happen to
Benjamin, he did not send him with them; he was, however, asked for by
Joseph, who pretended not to know his brothers, and whom they could not
recollect in his greatness. They were sent back for Benjamin.

"I am sure that you recollect in what manner Joseph entertained his
brothers on their return; that he forgave them in his heart; that he
relieved them from the horrors of famine; that the only rebuke he used,
when he parted with them, was of the most gentle kind--'_See that you
fall not out by the way_.'

"Now, my dear children, reflect upon this history, and how many times
Joseph appeared to have cause to complain of the hardness of his lot;
and yet it all led to honour and promotion; and this should teach you to
do the best you can, in whatsoever situation you may be placed, and to
depend on God, who is the great object of your _admiration_, for the
rest.

"The next deserving objects of our _admiration_ are the effects of
virtue, and particularly of Industry.--Virtue never fails to give
blessings to mankind; thus it is, that the good are always the most
happy. Industry has the same blessing attending it, and the recompence
is of the most delightful nature, as it gives the means of acquiring
many comforts, and the power of doing a great deal of good. Your mamma
can tell you a very pleasant story of the good effects of industry, over
indolence, or despair." At this intimation, all the young party directed
their eyes to Mrs. Willock, and "Pray, mamma, do oblige us," was
repeated by two or three of them at the same time.

Mrs. Willock, who was not only a very elegant and well-educated woman,
but extremely good-natured, smiled at the eagerness of her young
friends, and began


_The Story of the Two Gardeners._

"There were two market gardeners, who were also neighbours, and lived
somewhere near the village of Hammersmith. It happened, that the early
crops of peas, raised by these two poor men, were in one morning killed
by a severe frost.--One of the gardeners, a very short time afterwards,
having occasion to pass by the gate of his friend, called in to condole
with him on their mutual misfortune. 'Ah,' cried he to the other, 'how
unfortunate have we been, neighbour! do you know that I have done
nothing but fret ever since my disaster: but, bless me, what is here?
you have a fine healthy crop of peas saved from the frost.'--'Not so,'
cried the other.--'What are they then?' said he. 'Why,' returned the
other gardener, 'these are what I sowed immediately after my
loss.'--'What, coming up already?' cried the fretter.--'Yes.'--'Bless
me, how is that?'--'Why, while you was fretting, I was working, that's
all.'--'What, and don't you fret when you have a loss?'--'To be sure I
do.'--'Well, how then?'--'Why, though I do fret, I always put it off
until after I have repaired the mischief.'--'Lord, why then you have no
occasion to fret at all.'--'True,' replied the industrious gardener,
'and that is the very reason, the less one frets, the better.'

"I am sure, my dears, that I need not tell you the moral of this little
fable, because I am _sure_ that you have all of you good sense enough to
find it out: but as you may like to hear it from me, I will tell it
you--_That the pleasantest reflection you can have of a misfortune is,
that you have been able, by your industry, to repair it._ And it is
really astonishing, my dear children," continued she, "how many
mischiefs might be _repaired_ by a little trouble and industry."

"_Admiration_ of worth, courage, genius, talent, and of the works of
art, is the next of which," continued Mr. Willock, "we have to speak.
_Admiration_ of worth is, among good minds, very grateful, for they are
always pleased to find excellence; and in this country you may indulge
the passion at any time, by reading the works of great authors, such as
Locke, Addison, Sir Richard Steel, Doctor Johnson, and others, wherein
you will have to admire an excellent moral, and a pure and elegant
language.

"_Admiration_ of courage is another pleasant sensation, though attended
with a portion of pain. It was this kind of _Admiration_ which was felt
by Philip king of Macedon, when his son Alexander seized hold of the
bridle of Bucephalus, who was so wild and unmanageable, that no one had
been able to mount him, and softly letting fall his cloak, threw himself
upon his back in one leap, and animating him with his voice, put him in
full speed, to the astonishment of every one present. Philip, with tears
of joy and _Admiration_ in his eyes, exclaimed--'My son, seek a kingdom
more worthy of thee, for Macedon is below thy merit.'

"_Admiration_ of genius and talent may be often indulged. The many
curious pieces of mechanism that may be seen daily, are objects worthy
of _admiration_; but perhaps the most extraordinary of any to a young
mind is a ship, when it is considered, that within its space several
hundreds of persons traverse immense oceans, and sail to places many
thousand leagues distant."

"I should like very much to go on board a ship," said Henry, while his
father had paused a moment to take a pinch of snuff.

"I intend," answered Mr. Willock, "that you and your brothers shall go
to-morrow on board the Rainbow man of war, the captain of which is my
particular friend: and if you do, I think your faces will express
something more than simple _Admiration_. Suppose we look at the next
picture; will not your looks be more like it than this? for (said he, as
he turned over the leaf) it is


ADMIRATION with ASTONISHMENT.

[Illustration]

"You may observe, that the motions which accompany this passion are more
lively and stronger marked, the eyebrows more elevated, the eyes more
open, the eyeball further from the lower eyelid, and more steadily
fixed; the mouth is more open; and all the parts in a much stronger
emotion; but, lest you should be too much inclined to stare and gape, I
will tell you a story of two schoolfellows, which is


_The History of Bill Vacant and Henry Hawk's-eye_.

"Bill Vacant and Henry Hawk's-eye were schoolfellows of much about the
same age. Henry Hawk's-eye was a clever, intelligent boy, who was always
seeking after knowledge, and taking great pains to acquire it. When he
saw any thing new or curious, he was not contented with wishing that he
knew what it was, but he always set to work seriously to find out every
thing about it; and if it was a piece of mechanism, how it was made.
Bill Vacant, on the other hand, always looked as if he was very deeply
engaged in thought, when the truth was, that he was not; all the time,
thinking of any thing at all. Bill Vacant was always wondering; he would
wonder two or three times a-day what a clock it was?--what he should
have for dinner?--whether it would be fine on the morrow?--whether he
should go to see his grandmother at Christmas? or something equally
uninteresting. If he saw any curious piece of workmanship, he would
wonder how it was made, but would be satisfied with wondering; his mouth
therefore was always wide open with _Astonishment_, but was never filled
with instruction, which he would not be at the pains to gather: his was
not '_The fond attentive gaze of young Astonishment_,' mentioned by the
poet Akenside, who wrote a charming book, which you must read some day,
called 'The Pleasures of the Imagination.' Bill Vacant was always
gazing, it is true, but to very little purpose; he was not only
ignorant, but likely to continue so all his life; and so it turned out;
for Henry Hawk's-eye having reflected that his father was not rich, and
that he would have to get his own living in the world, bent his thoughts
towards a profession, and fixed upon the law. Henry was presently a
student in the Temple, and paid so much attention to his studies, that
he very soon became much resorted to to draw pleadings; and it was not
many years before he made a handsome fortune. Bill Vacant, whose
friends also had nothing to give him, was all this time wondering what
would be the best line that he could embark in; but as he was ignorant
of every thing, he found it so difficult to determine, that day
succeeded day in slothful idleness. One instant he would commence
merchant; the next he would go to sea; then he would volunteer his
services in the army; in either of which lines, if he had had
perseverance, he might have in a measure succeeded. The truth was, that
poor Bill Vacant was always wondering what would be the best for him,
when, in fact, he had better have taken up any thing than have wondered
any longer about it. However, unhappily for him, he continued wondering
all his life; and when he was old and poor, all that he had to wonder at
was, that other people had succeeded in the world so much better than
himself.

"Such," my dear children, "is the difference between _Admiration_, and
that void of thought which occasions us to wonder without a desire of
improvement. Never, therefore, lose your time in wondering; but the
instant you are at a loss to know any thing, inquire and study till you
find it out, and master it. You may sometimes be led wrong,
notwithstanding all your care; but do not grieve although you may; for a
steady sure friend, called Experience, will step in to make you full
amends."

There was now an interval between the entertainments Mr. Willock had
promised his children, for tea and coffee were brought in, with fruit;
when, after taking each a cup of tea, and some strawberries, the young
people retired to rest, highly gratified with the entertainment of the
evening.


_The Party to Weymouth._

The next day presented a fine clear sky, and the young people were told
to get themselves in readiness to go in the barouche to Weymouth; but
Mrs. Willock being rather indisposed, was not of the party. There is not
any thing more pleasant than the preparation in these cases; all was
bustle and expectation. They were to go on board a ship--what a
delightful excursion!

At length the time arrived--they were at Weymouth--they saw the ships
at anchor--nay more, they saw the king and royal party going on board
the yacht. The ships were manned; the water was as smooth as milk. Mr.
Willock had taken care to carry with him, for the amusement of the young
people, the Passions of Le Brun, which he took out of his pocket as they
were going on board the Rainbow, in the captain's barge, that had been
sent for them.

Henry was delighted--"Only, sir," said he to his father, "look what a
number of men in blue jackets and white trowsers are standing upon the
sails!"--"Those people, my dear," said he, "are our gallant defenders,
our brave English tars; they do not stand, as you call it, on the sails,
but on the yards, to which the sails are fastened, or bent."--"Dear
sir," interrupted William, "what beautiful boat is that?"--"That, my
dear boy," said he, "is the barge in which is our dear sovereign, King
George the Third. There he is!--do you not see him?--Here (said he,
opening the book of Passions), look at this; this expresses the
sentiment you ought to feel; it is


VENERATION.

[Illustration]

"_Veneration_ is (according to Le Brun) the result of admiration and
esteem, when it has something for its object divine, beyond our
comprehension, or majestic in virtue. The face is modestly reclined; the
eyebrows bent down; the eyes almost shut and fixed, and the mouth
gentle, humble, and full of respect. Who is it that must not feel the
passion of _Veneration_, at the name even of our beloved sovereign,
eminent as he is in virtue, and mild and merciful as he is on the
throne? No wild acts of ambition, no base perfidy, no lawless stretch of
power, has dishonoured his reign. He is the father of his people, and he
has the affection and _Veneration_ of every good man."

The barge now approached the side of the ship, which was manned, that
is, the seamen stood on each side to hand the side-ropes (which were
covered with red baize) to the company; and Mr. Willock was received on
the quarter-deck by captain Manly, who commanded the Rainbow.


_A Description of a Man of War._

Captain Manly, who was a very well-bred man, received his guests with
great politeness, and gratified their curiosity by taking them all over
the ship. He showed them the fore-castle, which is the fore part of the
deck; the main deck, the gally-fire, and the coppers wherein the
sailors' dinner is cooked; from thence he took them down the hatchways,
to show them the midshipmens' births; and between decks, where the
hammocks are slung, and the cable tiers, where the cables which hold the
ship are coiled, or as you would call it, laid round; and the
bread-room, where the provisions are served out.

Captain Manly next took his visitors into his own cabin. Some
refreshment was prepared, and among other things, he gave them some real
salt junk, that is, salt beef, and some sea biscuit instead of white
bread, which the sailors, with great contempt, call _soft tommy_. He
gave them also some grog, as well as wine. They then returned to the
quarter-deck, when John, William and Henry amused themselves with the
young midshipmen, some of whom were old schoolfellows, and showed them
how to go aloft up the shrouds (called by the landsmen rope-ladders)
into the mizen-top, whither they followed them a little way, but did not
like climbing to get over the top rim, nor did they choose to go through
_lubber's hole_, which is a way of more safety, used by landsmen, for
fear they should be laughed at. Henry, however, expressed a great
inclination to go to sea; and on hearing captain Manly relate to his
father the gallant achievements of Lord Nelson, his eyes sparkled with
the love of glory. Captain Manly showed his guests a picture of his
gallant friend; and the passion of _Veneration_ was again visible in
every face.

One of the quarter-masters (who are old seamen, and have the care of the
quarter-deck, and whose duty it is to call the officers to their watch,
to turn the hour-glass, and go to the belfry to pull the bell-rope) was
very attentive to the young gentlemen, and took them forward, where some
of the sailors were dancing hornpipes on the main deck, to the music of
a broken fiddle, played by an old black fidler. The young people gave
the quarter-master (whom the sailors called Old Spun-yarn) some money to
drink their healths; and he, in return, got one of the boys who waited
on the midshipmen to go aloft, and stand upon the truck of the
top-gallant-mast-head, which is at the very greatest height of the
masts, where he stood on a space not larger than the top part of a dumb
waiter, and drew in the pendant, and let it out again at pleasure. John
and William shuddered to see him at such a tremendous height; but Henry
seemed very much delighted at the boy's activity.

The boat was now manned, at the request of Mr. Willock, to put them on
shore; but as the wind had sprung up, the water had got rather rough;
and before they had rowed far, a strong gale came on, when the boat's
crew were obliged to pull very hard to make the shore; and as the tide
run strong, they were some hours before they could fetch, that is, reach
the pier. During their passage to shore, the boat shipped several seas,
and the young people began to be a little frightened, except Henry, who
seemed more stout-hearted than any of the rest. Mr. Willock, for his
part, was only uneasy on account of the delay it occasioned, and the
apprehensions which would occur to the mind of his good lady. At length,
however, they were all landed safe on shore; and after taking a glass of
wine, Mr. Willock set out for home, where he arrived late at night. It
had now become quite tempestuous, and Mrs. Willock and her little
daughters were waiting with the most painful anxiety. Presently,
however, the carriage was heard at a distance on the road, and the gates
were thrown open by the servants, before the bells could be rung. Mrs.
Willock, who was a most affectionate mother, ran into the hall to meet
and embrace her children; and Caroline and Louisa ran to kiss their
brothers, followed by all the servants in the house. The family were now
all together, in the large parlour, where was a good fire, and all the
comforts of home prepared for the travellers. When they were a little
composed and refreshed, Mr. Willock drew from his pocket the Passions,
and asked the young people if, when they came in, they had not seen a
face like the one he shewed them? when they one and all cried out, that
it was mamma: the truth was, that it was the passion of


RAPTURE.

[Illustration]

"Yes, indeed," said Mr. Willock, "it was the face of your dear mamma,
and never better expressed; full of gratitude to God, and veneration for
that Almighty providence which conducted you home in safety, her eyes
were directed towards heaven, her mouth was only opened to breathe a
prayer of thankfulness, and the two corners were a little turned up with
an expression of joy.

"Rapture, my dear children," said Mr. Willock, "is the most extatic of
the passions; it is a sentiment full of love, joy, esteem, and
veneration; it is an excess of pleasure, and is frequently too much
to be borne; when so, it is relieved by tears; you will feel it
sensibly, if ever you live to have children.

"By the _Rapture_ your dear mother shewed at your safe return, you may
do more than guess at how much she must love you; you will, I am sure,
be grateful for so much tenderness and affection, and never do any thing
that can give her pain. Thank God that we are once more happy together;
and let us go to our beds full of that sentiment, and to-morrow morning,
at breakfast, you shall entertain your mamma with an account of your
voyage."

The next morning, at breakfast, our happy domestic party met together,
refreshed, by undisturbed rest, the repose of love and peace.

Henry related to his mamma all the particulars of their naval excursion
the day before, which he concluded by saying, that he should like very
much to go to sea, when Mr. Willock mildly interrupted him--"My dear
Henry," said he, "do not make your mamma uneasy by saying so. If it is
proper and suitable to the views in life which we have for you, your
inclination will be studied; and if it is not, I am sure that you have
too much good sense, as well as love for your parents, to wish for any
thing that they might disapprove."--Henry blushed a little, and said,
"Indeed, sir, I will never think of any thing that you or my mamma may
disapprove."--"That is spoken like a very good and sensible boy,"
answered Mr. Willock: "but," said he, "suppose that we return to the
Passions of Le Brun, and see whether his faces will speak (for faces
often do speak by strong expressions of the features) on the subject."
He opened the book, which lay on the table, and the first portrait which
presented itself was


DESIRE.

[Illustration]

"Dear me! how sharp the man looks!" said Henry.--"Yes," cried Mr.
Willock, "you will observe that this passion brings the eyebrows close
together, and forwards the eyes, which are more open than ordinary; the
eyeball is inflamed, and places itself in the middle of the eye; the
nostrils rise up, and are contracted towards the eyes; the mouth half
opens, and the spirits being in motion, give a glowing colour. _Desire_
is most frequently unreasonable; it often pants after things which are
improper, or hurtful to itself. Just now, when you expressed such an
ardent wish to go to sea, your face had all the expression of
_Desire_.--Now, my dear Henry, we should never desire any thing, without
due consideration of its value, or of the propriety of having it as we
wish; for instance, you should have thought, 'It cannot matter much to
me whether I spend my days on board of a ship, or on shore among my
friends; whether I am brought up to the law, or whether I go into the
army; each of these situations have their advantages and their honours;
they have, too, their labours and disappointments. I know that my
parents would sooner study my inclinations than their own: but then they
do not decide from inclination; they are wiser, and have more experience
than me, and they judge coolly, and without _Desire_, what would be most
fitting for me, according to all the circumstances of my education, the
shew of my talents, and the fortune I may have to set out with in life.
It is the novelty of a sea life which gives it attraction; but novelty
soon ceases to engage, and decreases in value, the longer we make our
visit to it; and then we afterwards wish that we had attended to
something better for us, or more adapted to our situation.'

"There are, however, many praiseworthy objects of _desire_, such as

"A _Desire_ to please God.

"A _Desire_ to improve in learning.

"A _Desire_ to excel in virtue or science, properly called emulation.

"The first of these ought to be the great object of our lives: the
second will be a lasting delight and profit to us; it will always secure
us a portion of respect in the world, and will stay by us, though by
misfortune we should be stripped of all, and left to work for our bread:
the third is a passion which makes the great man and the hero; it made
such a statesman as Charles Fox, of whom you have heard speak, and such
a hero as Lord Nelson.

"With these desires in your breast, poverty will stand no chance of
keeping you under. The world, my dear children, is like a market-place,
where many different persons bring their wares, their industry, and
their trinkets for sale. Those who have the best articles, or who are
the best workmen, will find the readiest and most certain sale and
profit or employ; those who have more humble talents, or wares of a
worse quality, are obliged to wait longer, and sell for less; and such
as have only trinkets to offer, find customers only by chance, and are
never sure of a market. Last of all, the lazy beggar, who only comes
into the market-place in expectation of getting a subsistence from the
more industrious, as he has nothing to offer in exchange, meets little
or no attention, and hears only the just reproof of 'Why don't you get
some work to do?'

"There are several objects of _Desire_ that must never be entertained,
and which are very bad and wicked; among these are

"The _Desire_ of wealth, when unreasonable or unconscionable, called
Avarice.

"The _Desire_ of obtaining any advantage of another unfairly, called in
the scripture, coveting our neighbours' goods.

"The _Desire_ of being great or ambitious.

"There are others, which are those forbidden by the Ten Commandments,
and of which I need not speak.

"The _Desire_ of wealth, called Avarice, is a most extraordinary
passion, as it defeats the very end which it wishes to produce, an
enjoyment of the rational pleasures and comforts of life; for the miser
lays up hoard upon hoard, and still remains unsatisfied; he punishes
himself continually; he submits to the derision, the reproaches, and
contempt of the world; he has no enjoyments, no friends; and, besides,
he suffers constant dread and apprehension of being robbed of his
guineas: he suspects every body. Such a character we have in


_The Story of Old Alvarus, the Miser._

"Alvarus was an old miser, who constantly kept his guineas in a bag,
which he used to hide in the most secret place he could find in his
apartments.

"Alvarus had been so careful to lay by his store where no person would
be able to find it and rob him of it, that he _forgot_ where he had put
it himself.

"Alvarus searched every hole and corner that he could think of, without
success: the bag was not to be found; but he knew that no one could have
taken it from him, for not a creature had entered the house. Alvarus
fumed and fretted himself ill; he went to his bed alone and
disconsolate, for very few cared for Alvarus.

"At length it happened that some one knocked at the door of his hut;
Alvarus could not rise to open it; but he called out, 'Whoever you are,
lift up the latch and come in, for I am sick.' It was his little nephew
Nicholas, whose father and mother were poor industrious people, and who
had often asked Alvarus to spare them a trifle, to put them into some
little way of business, to make their way in the world; but he had
always refused them: he would not part with a sixpence.

"The father and mother of Nicholas had, nevertheless, sent him to
inquire after the health of his uncle: he was a fine little boy, with
the colour of the carnation upon his cheeks, and with a brave open
countenance.

"The old man surveyed him from head to foot. 'What, Nicholas,' cried he,
'is it you? How are your father and mother? I am ill, Nicholas, very
ill.'

"Nicholas asked if he could do any thing for his uncle? Alvarus began to
reflect, 'I might as well,' said he to himself, 'have no wealth, if I am
to suffer illness without help or relief, and I shall perhaps die for
want of medical assistance; yet who can I trust to seek for this money?'
He looked again at Nicholas; he saw honesty in his face--'This boy,'
said he, 'knows nothing of the world. I think that I need not be afraid
to trust him. Nicholas, my dear Nicholas,' said he, 'I wish that you
would seek for an old bag, which you will find in some corner or other;
it is heavy, but what is in it is not of _much use_ to any body, and you
must not look into it upon any account.' Nicholas answered in a very
artless manner, that he would not look into it for the world, if his
uncle forbid it. 'Well then,' said Alvarus, 'go and look all about, and
in every corner, as I have occasion for it.'

"Nicholas, who was a very clever and persevering lad, searched place
after place, until at length, in a dark hole under the sink, he found
the bag, and carried it immediately to his uncle. Alvarus was quite
delighted, when he saw the bag unopened--'That is a good boy,' said he;
'now then go for the doctor, and tell him to come to me, for that I am
very sick indeed.'

"Nicholas ran all the way for the doctor, and when he returned, it was
but reasonable to expect that old Alvarus would have given him a trifle
of money; he however contented himself with giving him only thanks; and
Nicholas was going home when the doctor entered.

"The doctor felt the miser's pulse, and found him in a very bad way--
'I am afraid it is too late,' said he, 'I should have been sent for
before.' He moreover told Nicholas that his uncle could not be left.
Nicholas therefore promised to return, as soon as he had made his father
and mother acquainted with the situation he had left him in; but the
miser absolutely forbid him to bring them with him.

"Alvarus grew worse; the doctor gave him medicines, but in vain; when he
thought it proper to tell him, that there were no hopes of his recovery,
and advised him to settle his affairs without delay.

"Alvarus was very much affected at this news--'What,' said he, 'have I
been laying up hoard upon hoard only to leave it behind me? what
enjoyment have I had? what delight has this world afforded me? I have
been poor in the midst of riches, and have starved in abundance. I might
have been happy myself, and I might have made others happy; I have
neglected the opportunity; and before I have tasted refreshment, I
expire on my journey.'

"The doctor asked the old miser again about his affairs--'If I die,'
said he, 'I leave what little I have to this boy, my nephew Nicholas.'
The doctor took his leave, and Alvarus addressed his nephew as
follows:--'Nicholas,' said he, 'take care of this bag for me; I shall
fall asleep presently, for I feel heavy; there is not any thing worth
having in it; _it is full of rubbish_; nevertheless, some people would
be base enough to wish to take it from me.'

"Alvarus went into a sleep, from which he never awoke again--Nicholas
called to him--he did not answer. Nicholas run for his father and
mother--they arrived, but the miser was no more. Nicholas told them the
story of the bag, which they opened, and found full of guineas. The
doctor confirmed the story of Nicholas, and that the property was his
right. The father and mother of Nicholas shed tears at the death of
Alvarus; nevertheless they said, 'How good and wonderful is Providence!
It appeared only by chance that our son should happen to go on that day
to inquire after his uncle, who had then mislaid his treasure.
Providence has put it in its proper channel. Let us bury Alvarus with
respect, and mourn not so much that he is dead, as that when living, he
had never enjoyed life.'

"Nicholas succeeded to the wealth of his uncle, which was improved by
the industry and care of his parents; and from being a poor lad,
Nicholas is now an opulent farmer."

"That old miser was a very foolish old man," said William, as soon as
Mr. Willock had concluded the story. "Certainly he was," answered Mr.
Willock; "he might have made himself very comfortable, and yet have laid
by sufficient to keep him far from the dangers of want in his old age;
and that shows, my dear children, the difference between prudence or
economy, and avarice:--prudence allows all reasonable enjoyments, but no
extravagance or waste; and as the articles of plain wholesome food,
refreshing drink, and neat decent cloathing, do not require any great
sacrifice of money, and are proper for us, and as good management makes
us as frugal as possible, we cannot be much the poorer for those
reasonable indulgences; and all beyond, it is wise and necessary to lay
by; out of which, we ought, nevertheless, to spare a portion, such as we
can afford; to the distrest. It is then that our prudent hours are blest
by Providence, and the motive approved by the same Almighty who has
taught the ant to provide for winter; and indeed old age, my dear
children, may properly be called the winter of life.

"We will now," said Mr. Willock, "consider the nature of the _Desire_ by
which men wish to obtain any thing unfairly, or what is called coveting
our neighbours' goods.--There is not any _Desire_ that can be more base
or wicked than this, and it leads to the greatest crimes; if ever you
feel it in your bosoms, which I trust you never will, check it, my dear
children, as being base, mean, unfair, unjust, and beneath your natures;
and be assured, that it is a _Desire_ which in the end will never have
success, as it is contrary to the commands of God, and below the honour
and dignity of the human character. Your dear mamma can relate to you a
very pretty story of the ill-success of such a _desire_, as well as of
the folly of being too good-natured." Mrs. Willock, finding the eyes of
all her little family immediately turned towards her, began as follows:


_The Story of the Two Merchants and the Black Pebble._

"In the city of Peristan, which is a province of Cashmeer, in Hindostan,
lived a merchant, named Baizeed; he was a very good young man, but was
so generous and prodigal of his money, and so very good-natured, that
any body might get it from him; and the patrimony he had received from
his father was almost spent. As Baizeed was walking one day through the
streets of Peristan, he met an old man, with a small bag in his hand,
who accosted him, and asked if he would choose to buy any pearls or
precious stones? Baizeed had the curiosity or _desire_ to look at them;
and the old merchant seated himself under the portico of a house, where
he displayed his goods. Baizeed looked at them one by one; but his
attention was chiefly taken up with a small black pebble, which had on
it some marks of gold, resembling in form the rays of the sun. Baizeed
inquired particularly about this stone, which the merchant told him was
of considerable value, though it only appeared as a common black pebble;
that it was a talisman, invented by the magician Mahoud; and that in all
cases of extremity or danger, it would give the owner the most faithful
counsel of the good genii. Baizeed, on this, laid the pebble down,
giving up all thoughts of purchasing it, as he supposed its price to be
infinitely out of his reach. "I do not wish to inhance the value of the
pebble," said the old man; "I only ask fifty gold mohurs for it."
Baizeed assured him that he could not afford to give him half that money
for it, and was going away, when the old diamond merchant stopt
him--"Well," said he to Baizeed, "as you have taken such a mighty fancy
to the pebble, you shall be welcome to have it on credit, and pay me
when you may be able." Baizeed on this thanked the old man as politely
as he could, and accepted the stone from his hands, when the old
merchant explained to him some characters which were on it, in the
Hindoo language, and formed the following sentence--'_The rays of
wisdom._'

"Baizeed, on his return home, shewed the pebble to his wife Aseecha,
and was very eager to invite all his friends to shew them also the
purchase he had been so lucky as to make, and invited them to a feast
for that purpose. When Baizeed's friends were met together, one examined
it carefully, another liked its curious appearance, and a third wished
him to make an immediate experiment of its virtues. Baizeed was not long
waiting an opportunity. One of his neighbours being engaged in a
lawsuit, was very anxious to know what he should do in the affair, and
intreated him to try the effect of the magic pebble.

"Baizeed took a small flint in his hand, and, upon striking it against
the stone, at the first blow, the liquid fire came forth from it, and
running upon the ground, immediately formed the sentence of '_Truth_.'

"The counsel which the talisman gave was attended to by the neighbour of
Baizeed, and by following which, he got well through his difficulty.

"Numerous were the applications Baizeed received from different persons
to lend them the black pebble; and all his friends were so kind, and
appeared so grateful, that he could not find it in his heart to refuse
them; but what was the most extraordinary was, that although Baizeed was
thoroughly sensible of the virtues of the pebble, he scarcely ever made
use of it himself, but it was always at the service of others, without
any return or recompence.

"In about three or four years after Baizeed had come into possession of
the pebble, what with neglecting his own affairs, and attending to the
frequent solicitations of others about theirs, Baizeed began to find
himself very much reduced in circumstances; and in addition to this
folly of attempting to oblige every body, he was naturally of a gay and
cheerful disposition, and was constantly giving entertainments, for the
sake of having the society of his friends.

"Among others who had the free use of the talisman, was a neighbour of
Baizeed's, named Daoud, who had always been welcome to his house, and
who he had done every thing to serve; in short, Daoud had as much use of
the pebble as himself; he had it upon every occasion he wished, and
always smiled so graciously, and professed so much friendship to
Baizeed, that it was impossible to refuse him.

"Baizeed's wife Aseecha loved her husband very much, and frequently
entreated him to be more careful of the valuable treasure he had, and to
turn the magic pebble to advantage; but unhappily he neglected her
counsel; and at length, what with the waste of time, and seeing company
to show off the talisman, his situation became desperate; when he
thought it best to call on his friend Daoud, to explain to him his
circumstances, and to consult what was best to be done, as he was afraid
his creditors would take the pebble from him. Daoud begged him not to
despond, and assured him that he would take care of the talisman, if he
was afraid of any mischief happening to him. Baizeed put the stone in
his hands, requiring him, in the most solemn manner, to make use of it
for his wife and family; offering him, at the same time, a reasonable
share of that valuable treasure for his trouble.

"Daoud promised to do according to the wishes of Baizeed, who retired to
a small village near the fountain of Shookroach, whose waters bestow
peace, leaving Daoud in possession of the talisman.

"Baizeed waited many days patiently, in hopes of seeing his friend Daoud
with a supply of money, for his wife Aseecha was very distressed, and
his children had had nothing to live upon but a small bag of rice and a
few dried fishes, which were almost gone. Daoud, however, never came
near Baizeed; and presently he was informed that he had got into his
house, and had made himself acquainted with all his friends and
creditors, and that he was turning the talisman to his own advantage
solely. Baizeed began now to blame his folly, for having intrusted the
only valuable he had left to so sordid a wretch.

"Baizeed went to Daoud, to complain of his ill treatment; but that
wicked wretch insisted he owed him more money than the pebble was worth;
and Baizeed was too poor to get redress.

"At length, when Baizeed had given himself up to despair, and was
sitting at his door in a pensive attitude, he saw the old diamond
merchant who sold him the pebble approach. Baizeed was quite distressed
what he should say to him; but thought, very properly, that the truth
was the best; he therefore told him the whole story of his imprudence;
'Well,' cried the old man, 'you have suffered sufficiently for your
good-nature; though you have lost the talisman by your folly, the good
[A]Bramah will not punish you too severely. Come with me, and we will go
disguised as two [B]Calenders to the house of Daoud.'

[A] The Eastern name for God.

[B] Wandering Mahometan monks.

"Baizeed prepared to follow the old man; and at length having procured
the dresses of Calenders, they set out on their journey, and arrived at
the house of Daoud, as he was seated at the head of his table, feasting
with the great men of Peristan. The Calenders, according to the custom
in the East, were invited to take refreshment; and Baizeed seated
himself at the lower end of the table of his perfidious friend.

"After dinner, Daoud began to speak of the virtues of the talisman; and
the Viceroy of the Sultan Shahabeddeen, who was present, was desirous
that he should display its wonders before him. Daoud called for the
pebble, and struck it with the flint; but the liquid flame did not issue
from it; he tried again and again; but it was all in vain. The Viceroy,
who considered that Daoud had imposed upon him, was highly incensed;
and ordered his black eunuchs, who were in waiting, to inflict the
punishment of the bowstring.--It was in vain that he supplicated; the
Viceroy commanded that he should die, unless he could, within ten
minutes, produce the sentence of truth from the talisman. Daoud
attempted once more, but all was fruitless, when the old man took up the
pebble, and striking it with the flint, the flame immediately issued,
and formed a sentence on the ground--'_I am useless to the wicked._'

"On this, the Viceroy, who was the more enraged, demanded to know of
Daoud the history of the talisman, and how he came by it? That wicked
wretch, however, told a lie to excuse himself.

"The Viceroy was so dissatisfied with the answers of Daoud, that he
demanded of the old Calender that he should obtain again the sentence of
truth: The old man obeyed, when the talisman produced the words--'_The
saying of Daoud is not true; I belong to Baizeed._'

Baizeed, at the desire of the old man, now threw off the dress of the
Calender, and confronted the wicked Daoud, who being unable to say a
word in his defence, was instantly strangled by the eunuchs.

"The Viceroy ordered the pebble to be restored to Baizeed, who returned
home, transported with joy at having found his precious talisman.

"As soon as Baizeed entered the door of his house, he endeavoured to
obtain the sentence of wisdom from the magic pebble; but it only
produced the words--'_I am useless to the imprudent_.'

"Baizeed was again in anguish and despair, when the old man entered, and
told him that the virtue of the talisman would not return to it again
until he had, by hard labour, rubbed the pebble so bright, that the rays
which had disappeared should again become visible. Baizeed bore this
disappointment very patiently, and returned home to his wife Aseecha,
when he set to work every day rubbing the pebble, but no rays appeared.
At length, after a little time, he began just to see a glimpse of them,
and by persevering, they were once more restored. Baizeed now summoned
his friends to a feast, at which they appeared again very readily; but
when they required the counsel of the talisman, Baizeed demanded from
them a recompence for the benefit they would receive; in consequence of
which, he got several large sums of money; and having found the old man,
offered to pay him the fifty gold mohurs, when the old merchant said, 'I
am richly repaid by your being sensible of the value of the pebble. My
son, the mighty Bramah is well pleased when he observes in his children
an ingenuous heart, and kind disposition; but dangerous even is the love
of our fellow creatures, if we are weak enough to yield to the sweet
voice of deceit. Baizeed was tried with the magic pebble, and he
squandered away its blessings. The wicked Daoud, whose imagination was
at work to obtain the goods of Baizeed, was made the instrument for
punishing thy weakness; but he was to become an example also, that vice
never prospers. The magic pebble lost its power in his hands, and the
object of his covetousness was the cause of his death.'

"As the old man spoke, Baizeed observed that rays of celestial flame
surrounded his head, and that his garment was changed into a robe of the
purest white. The place was filled with the fragrance of myrrh, aloes,
sandal-wood, the jessamine flower and the rose.

"Baizeed fell prostrate on his face; it was the good genius Zemrud, who
had appeared as the old merchant. 'Blessed,' said he, 'are the good, and
powerful are those who trust in Bramah.' With these words the genius
disappeared, and Baizeed returned home to his faithful Aseecha,
satisfied of the goodness of Providence, and resolved never again to
forfeit the blessings of the talisman."

"The _desire_ of being great, or what is called ambition, is laudable,
as long as the means resorted to to satisfy it are just and fair, and it
is then a blessing; but becomes a curse, the instant we have recourse to
base or improper means.--But," said Mr. Willock, "let us see what is the
next picture. What have we here?"

"It is a very pleasant face," said John.--"It is," said Mr. Willock,


JOY with TRANQUILLITY.

[Illustration]

"You will observe here, that very little alteration is remarked in the
face of those who feel within themselves the sweetness of _Joy_. The
forehead is serene; the eyebrows without motion, elevated in the middle;
the eye pretty open, and with a laughing air; the eyeball lively and
shining; the corners of the mouth turn up a little; the complexion
lively; the cheeks and lips red.

"_Joy_ is a delightful sensation, and gives health to the body as well
as to the mind; when we feel joyful, with what alacrity, what spirit, do
we move and act! It is _Joy_ that you taste of, when the time arrives
for you to return home from school, to see your friends in vacation.
When _Joy_ is felt, the mind is occupied with every thing that is
pleasant; all care is for the time obliterated from your recollection;
you jump, and dance, and sing, and spring about like young fawns, from
place to place. But this is not _Joy with Tranquillity_, like that in
the picture. _Joy with Tranquillity_ is more lasting, and is less
violent. I will attempt to describe the passion to you by an example.


_The Story of Matthieu and Gerrard, the two Fishermen, who each found a
treasure._

"Two fishermen, named Matthieu and Gerrard, who lived in a small village
near the Mediterranean, and who had each of them large families, and
were very poor, were out one day drawing their nets, when one of them,
Gerrard, called out to the other, that he had drawn ashore a small
casket, which was extremely heavy; and he begged the other to assist him
to force it open, when he found it full of precious stones, carefully
inclosed in cotton. The fisherman who had found the treasure, very
fairly and justly told the other that he should go shares; and
overjoyed, ran home directly to his wife, to tell her the good news. The
other fisherman, who was older and more careful, staid to put his nets
in order before he followed, and was very kindly doing the same office
for his friend, when he discovered another casket among the meshes of
the net, which his comrade had overlooked, full of the like treasure,
and which he put in his pocket.

"When the old fisherman returned to the village, which was no great way
from the sea-shore, he found the house of his comrade surrounded by
people. In short, poor Gerrard's rapture had occasioned him to tell
every creature he met of his good fortune, and they had followed him in
a mass. One gave him a piece of advice; another put in a claim for
favour; a third offered to get him a market for the diamonds of a
friend. In short, he was almost torn to pieces by the officious kindness
of his neighbours; and in his perplexity, he sold his treasure for less
than half its value, to an old Jew, who, on hearing the news, had
hastened all the way from Marseilles to the spot, to make a good
bargain.

"The old fisherman said nothing about his luck until night, when he was
at supper with his wife; and she being a prudent woman, though she felt
a great deal of joy that her dear children would be better cloathed and
fed, yet it was _Joy with Tranquillity_. They neither of them suffered
their good success to run away with their reason. It was therefore
determined between themselves, that Matthieu should go the next day to
Marseilles, where dwelt a respectable Armenian merchant, and get a fair
price from him for the precious stones he had had the luck to find.

"The next day, the old fisherman set out on his journey, without saying
a word to any body, and returned home laden with louis d'ors, in
addition to the small sum which was the moiety of what the other
fisherman had honestly shared with him.

"In a very few months it happened, that the younger fisherman, Gerrard,
owing to his excess of joy, which made him insensible of what he was
about, and the folly of his young wife, who spent a great deal in dress,
while he was giving, lending, and throwing away his money, was reduced
at length to poverty, and had nothing left to do but to take to business
again.

"He was lamenting one morning not having sufficient to purchase nets,
and was mending the old ones to go out a fishing, when his neighbour
Matthieu came to the gate. 'I thought,' cried he, 'that you had left off
fishing, and that you lived upon the interest of the money you got for
your pearls and diamonds; or, perhaps, you are going out for
pleasure.'--'Alas,' cried Gerrard, 'it is not so; I have given away and
spent all that I had.'--'Well, but,' said he, 'those you have done
service to will never let you want a little money to purchase nets;
they have had plenty from you.'--'I have but little hopes of them,'
answered Gerrard.--'Well,' said the old fisherman, 'at any rate, give
them the trial; invite all these your neighbours and friends to a feast,
and after they have regaled themselves, I will open the whole business
of your necessities, and ask them to subscribe to put you into business
again.' Gerrard followed the advice of his neighbour, and a feast was
prepared, at which every one took care to be present. After dinner was
over, the old fisherman opened the business, and asked each of them to
subscribe a something; but they had all of them an excuse ready. 'Well,'
cried he, 'in that case, I must do all by myself,' when he pulled out
two large bags full of louis d'ors, which he opened before them, and
placed one of them before Gerrard. 'Now, sirs,' said Matthieu, turning
to the guests, 'we will not trouble you any further; _we shall not want
your assistance to count them out this time_.'

"The guests departed one after another, not a little chagrined at this
unexpected turn; and Matthieu explained to Gerrard that the money was
his right; that he had kept it for him, that it might not fall into such
bad hands as his former treasure. All now was joy, but it was _Joy with
Tranquillity_; and Gerrard, delighted with the wisdom, as well as with
the honesty of his friend, begged him to keep it for him, and that he
would draw for what he might have occasion.

"Matthieu and Gerrard continued neighbours and friends; their little
fortunes increased; and at length their children intermarried, to the
satisfaction of the old people, who, undisturbed by any excess of
passion, felt only _Joy with tranquillity_."

"Oh dear! what a funny face!" cried Henry, as Mr. Willock turned over
the leaf.

"It is, my dear," said he, "the face of


LAUGHTER.

[Illustration]

"Laughter is produced by joy mixed with surprise, the eyebrows rise
towards the middle of the eye, and bend down towards the side of the
nose. The eyes are almost shut, and sometimes appear wet, or shed
tears, which make no alteration in the face. The mouth, half open, shews
the teeth; the corners of the mouth drawn back, cause a wrinkle in the
cheeks, which appear so swelled as in some measure to hide the eyes; the
nostrils are open, and all the face is of a red colour. Laughter is at
all times ungraceful, therefore you will observe, that vulgar people are
most addicted to it: well-bred persons manage this passion better; they
seldom do any thing more than smile. Yet at times, it will happen that
something we meet with is so truly ridiculous or comical, that we cannot
by any means help laughing. There are, however, some persons who are so
much of idiots, that they will laugh at the most trifling thing in the
world; of this description were


_The Family of the Gobblegruels._

"Lord Gobblegruel, who was very rich, had arrived at that title purely
by having done some service to the government as a contractor. His
lordship had but very few ideas beyond a common sum in arithmetic. My
lady Gobblegruel was just as ignorant, only much more proud and
affected, though, to tell the honest truth, she was originally his
lordship's father's cook.

"There was a numerous family of them. There was his lordship, the right
honourable lady Gobblegruel, the honourable Master Thomas Gobblegruel,
and the honourable Miss Boadicea Gobblegruel.

You will wonder, my dear children, that there should be such characters
as these among persons of rank; and the truth is, that, generally
speaking, in this country, persons of rank are persons of education, of
good sense, and of elegant and refined manners; yet here and there, up
starts a peer without politeness, and a baron without brains.

"To proceed then--the honourable master Gobblegruel was what some coarse
people would have called a _natural_; at any rate, he most certainly was
a _natural curiosity_. Master Gobblegruel's whole pleasure and
employment was driving pigs: and to be sure, no salesman in Smithfield
market understood pigs better; he could tell you whether a pig with a
curly tail was better than a pig who had not a curly tail, or than one
that had no tail at all; but what was a more excellent accomplishment in
our little master was, that he could squeak as naturally as that animal;
and which species of entertainment being according to the taste of the
family, he was often called upon by the right honourable lady
Gobblegruel to perform for the amusement of the right honourable lord
Gobblegruel in the drawing room. (Henry could scarcely refrain from
laughing).

"Master Gobblegruel was not only one of the greatest idiots, but also
one of the greatest gluttons in the world; he was formed very much like
a pig himself--I mean one that was well fattened; for he was nearly as
thick as he was long; his cheeks were so plump and round, that they
almost hid his eyes, which were very small; but master Gobblegruel had
another extraordinary accomplishment--he could perform Punch to the
life, which he used to do in the housekeeper's room, to great audiences
of the servants, and with prodigious applause. It was really very
amusing to see the son of a nobleman with a short stick in his hand,
knocking, as he pretended, his wife Joan on the head, squeaking _toote_,
_toote_, _toote_, and nodding and winking exactly like his famed
original.--(Henry could not resist _Laughter_ any longer).

"The honourable master Gobblegruel was so ungraceful at table, that he
disgusted every body; you might see him take up the bone of a fowl,
which he would gnaw and suck with so much avidity, that the grease
would run down the sides of his mouth, into which he would also
constantly put his knife instead of his fork; and when he drank, you
might see the greater part of his face through the glass.

"One day in particular, master Gobblegruel made a more than commonly
ridiculous figure; he had got the end of a drumstick of a fowl in his
mouth, which upon being reminded by some person present was vulgar, he
transfixed immediately between his teeth, sitting bolt upright, and
grinning like his honourable father's pug-dog, to the infinite amusement
of all the servants. The young gentleman would not however part with the
bone. (Henry burst into a fit of _Laughter_.)

"I must now," said Mr. Willock, "for the benefit of the young ladies,
describe the honourable Miss Boadicea Gobblegruel, who in shape and
figure was the counterpart of her honourable brother.

"Miss Boadicea never looked at any thing; she always stared; she was
excessively vulgar, and was ignorant, in spite of education. She was,
too, always laughing; and when she did laugh, she might be heard from
the drawing-room into the kitchen; nor was there half a note difference
between the laugh of Miss Boadicea and the laugh of the cook-maid. Miss
Boadicea was nearly as coarse in her manners as her brother, but much
more ill-natured and satirical. Master Gobblegruel would not offend any
body, unless they spoke against pigs; and Boadicea had a constant
antipathy to merit in distress, or meanness in apparel; and though she
sometimes deigned to assist, it was always done with the features of
pity proceeding from contempt: but let us have done with this
disagreeable monster; I see, my dear Caroline, that you already despise
her. Another laughing character calls our attention.--I will describe
him in the following story.


_The History of Charles Banter._

"Charles was the son of a gentleman of very moderate circumstances, who
had, however, found means to send him to Eton College, where he
distinguished himself very early, not only by being the best scholar of
his age, but one of the best-natured boys. When Charles was _fag_, he
went through that service without a murmur; he was always as merry as a
grig. If his schoolfellows beat him, he only laughed all the time; in
short, Charles was what they called a fine fellow: but he had a very
great fault, and that was an inclination to entertain himself
continually with that disagreeable amusement of schoolboys, called
_quizzing_; he used to quiz the master, quiz the mistress, quiz the
inhabitants, and quiz the strangers. Charles, therefore, though he was
admired as a clever boy, was not loved, and indeed had many enemies; for
there are very few people who like to be laughed at. Charles Banter's
propensity was often attended with disagreeable consequences, and was a
grand obstacle to his success in life. Charles was at home one vacation,
when a distant relation, who happened to wear a wig, was on a visit to
his father.--The old gentleman took particular notice of Charles; and
having no children of his own, had left him a very handsome fortune.
Charles ought, you will say, to have had a little prudence, but he could
not resist the propensity to quiz. The wig was the object of his
amusement; and he contrived one day, before the old gentleman put it on,
to slip into his room, and pepper and salt all the curls; so that when
he came down to dinner, he set the whole party at table sneezing. At
length the joke was discovered; and as nobody was present on whom the
slightest suspicion of such an indecency could fall, except Charles, the
question was put to him, and the colour in his face pleaded guilty; in
short, he confessed the joke; for Charles, to speak fairly of him,
disdained to tell a lie. His father, who was not a very sensible man,
was indiscreet enough to join in the laugh, and to take no farther
notice of the affair. It was not so with the old gentleman; he never
visited the same table afterwards, and to his will added the following
codicil:--'To master Charles Banter, for the seasoning of my wig, _five
shillings_.'

"You will see by this event, my dear children, that it is your interest
as well as duty, to pay respect to age; for old people can serve you by
their experience, even if they have not money to leave you; you may fly
to them for advice, and the attention you pay them is _never lost_. But
there is a still worse character, and that is him who enjoys mischief,
and who takes a pleasure in cruelty; he laughs too, but his laugh is the
smile of malice. Such a wicked character was Tom Worry, who was the son
of a gentleman, and who had begun very early to make war against the
poor harmless animals and insects who came unfortunately in his way. To
torment and to destroy was his whole delight; and a poor innocent cat
was the particular object of his cruelty; and, what is very
extraordinary, it was to the having hunted one of these poor animals
into a cellar, that he owed all the _scratches_ he afterwards received
from ill-fortune; for while he was amusing himself in this way, he was
joined by a _vulgar_ boy ten times more wicked than himself, and who
exulted with him in the distress of poor puss: this boy ingratiated
himself into his favour, prevailed upon him to run away from his
friends, led him into a great many very serious scrapes, and was at
length his utter ruin.--Surely, my dear children, we need only to
reflect for a moment on the nature of the pain we inflict, to turn from
wanton cruelty: how should we like to be hunted into a corner, by
creatures stronger than ourselves, and pelted by them with stones and
dirt? we should think it very hard usage. If any ill accident assails,
how altered are our features, how wretched, how distressed do we
appear, what agony do our features express at the pain of a broken or
dislocated limb! Let us see if Le Brun has described this
sensation--yes, here it is.


ACUTE PAIN.

[Illustration]

"See how the eyebrows approach each other, and rise towards the middle;
the eyeball is hid under the eyebrow; the nostrils rise, and make a
wrinkle in the cheeks; the mouth half opens, and draws back; all the
parts of the face are agitated, in proportion to the violence of the
pain.

"I think, my dear children, that I can tell you a story, which will, in
its incidents, comprise several of the situations and passions which
follow, in this book of Le Brun. I had it from a French lady, and it is
called


_The Mother and her little Family._

"A scholar of the University of Basle, named Henry D'Orange, and who was
the only son of the rich Marquis D'Orange, was riding one day towards a
small town, when, as he approached, he observed a great number of people
gathered together, at the end of a narrow street. The scholar rode up to
them, to inquire into the cause of the tumult, when one of the persons,
an honest shopkeeper, who happened to be standing on the step of his
door, made answer, 'Ah, sir, a poor unhappy woman is the cause of all
this disturbance.'--'How so?' said the scholar.--'You don't know, sir,'
returned the honest merchant, 'how well this good creature deserves the
pity of the poor people who are her neighbours, and who would willingly
go to the greatest extremities to relieve her, did she not herself
forbid it, and entreat them not to interfere with the course of
justice.'--'I cannot yet comprehend you,' answered the young scholar;
'what has happened to her?'--'Many misfortunes, sir, one after
another.--She is a widow; she has six children; she lost her husband
after he had been confined a year to his bed. I think, sir, that I see
him now; his eyebrows drawn together; the eye as if fixed on some
object; the nostrils raised, making a wrinkle in his worn cheeks; the
mouth half opened and drawn back; and every part agitated in proportion
to what he suffered.'

"Behold," cried Mr. Willock, "the picture.


SIMPLE BODILY PAIN.

[Illustration]

"But to go on with the story--'So, sir,' continued the merchant, 'the
poor young man died; and in about two months after that event, his widow
was delivered of her sixth child. These misfortunes were on the heels of
each other; and the expences of interring her husband swallowed up the
whole of her little money. Her landlord, a man of a hard heart, and
cruel disposition, would not give her time to pay a twelvemonth's rent,
which was in arrear. It is only fifteen days since he told her, with
the most savage cruelty, that if she did not pay the money in a few
days, that he would seize her furniture, and turn her into the street.
He has kept his word; to-day the huissiers or bailiffs have surrounded
the house of this poor woman, and have taken every thing, even to the
cradle of the poor innocent at her breast. The neighbours having found
out what was going on, assembled together immediately, and would
probably have soon put an end to the power of these harpies of justice,
if this good creature had not entreated them to desist. Ah, sir,'
continued he, 'this is but a poor place; we are all distressed here, or
she should not want assistance.' The young stranger listened to the
narrative with great attention, and begged him to proceed. 'You may
judge, sir, how much this amiable woman is beloved, and she deserves it
all. In her better days, she never heard of distress without
endeavouring to relieve it; if any one of her neighbours was sick, she
was always their nurse; and she attended to these duties without
neglecting her aged father, who is still alive, though near an hundred
years of age, or forsaking the attention due to her little ones. During
the lifetime of her husband, who was a dealer in stuffs from Marseilles,
all that she could save beyond what she thought superfluous to their
situation, she used to bestow in charity upon her poor neighbours.'

"Henry, who was so much affected that the tears ran from his eyes, now
dismounted, and in an animated tone desired the shopkeeper to show him
the way to the dwelling of the poor woman. 'Conduct me,' said he, 'to
the house of this respectable widow, who deserves a palace instead of a
prison, and who ought to find a protector in every friend of humanity.'
Such was the noble appearance of Henry, and the generous expression of
his countenance, that the crowd instantly made way for him to pass
through to the dwelling of the widow.

"Henry presently arrived at the habitation of misery, and which had been
but a little time before the abode of conjugal felicity. He was struck
with astonishment at the scene which presented itself; he found the
interesting female, of whom he had heard so much, surrounded by her
little ones, who were crying, while she was endeavouring to console and
comfort them with every mark of tenderness and affection, regardless of
her own distress.

"Let us see, my dear children, if we can find the picture of this good
mother. It is--it is the face of


SADNESS.

[Illustration]

"See her full of anxiety and sorrow, yet calm and resigned to the will
of Heaven. Notice the dejection; the eyebrows rise towards the middle of
the forehead more than towards the cheeks; the eyeball appears full of
perturbation; the white of the eye is turned yellow; the eyelids are
drawn down, and a little swelled; all about the eye is livid; the
nostrils are drawn downwards; the mouth is half open, and the corners
are drawn down; the head carelessly leaning on one of the shoulders; the
face is of a lead colour; the lips pale.

"Who," my dear children, "can view this amiable countenance, without
feeling interested for the object, a mother, and in sorrow--a mother in
want--a mother in despair.

"The poor dear woman seems to be without the most distant prospect of
relief; without the most remote chance of meeting with a friend; without
means of extricating herself and her little ones from ruin; yet she
ought not to despair, for _Providence, when none appears, can find
itself a way_.

"There were two of those unhappy beings in the world, whose profits and
enjoyments arise out of the distresses of their fellow-creatures--two
huissiers, as they are called in France, or what we call sheriff's
officers; yet these people, my dear children, are necessary in the
community, to preserve property, and to cause us to act with justice to
each other; and when their unpleasant office is performed with decency
and mildness, they do not deserve disapprobation. It happened, however,
that the two officers who were in the poor widow's room were of that
description who debase the very nature of man, by rapacity and cruelty,
and who, hardened by constant scenes of misery, commit every possible
outrage on the distressed and friendless.

"See them busily employed, taking an inventory of the little effects of
the poor widow, with an unfeeling composure, that disgraced even their
profession. Here is the portrait of one of them, full of officious
consequence and contempt for poverty. To the applications which are made
to him by the poor widow for lenity, his hard inflexible features
present only the face of


SCORN;

[Illustration]

and here are its lively and strong features. The forehead wrinkled; the
eyebrows knit; the side of it next the nose drawn down, and the other
side rising very much; the eye is very open, and the eyeball is in the
middle; the nostrils rise and draw towards the eyes, and make wrinkles
in the cheeks; the mouth shuts, its sides sinking down, and the under
lip is pushed out beyond the upper one. With what detestation do we view
such a face as this!

"The scholar, mute with astonishment and terror, was some time before he
addressed these harpies. He gazed first at the widow, whose interesting
countenance engaged his attention, then at the children about her, and
then on the officers--'How much, sir,' cried he to one of them who was
writing at a table, 'does the debt amount to?'--'I should like to know
what business it is of yours,' answered the bailiff, in a surly tone,
still continuing to write, without deigning even to look at the person
who addressed him. 'You are mighty curious,' continued he; 'what
business is it of yours how much the woman owes? I suppose that you
wont pay the money for her, will you?'

"The scholar's attention was now taken off by a heavy sigh, which he
found proceeded from the breast of an aged man, who was seated in an old
elbow chair by the fireside. It was the poor widow's father, mourning
for her sorrows, and grieving for her distress; for as far as respected
himself, he had but little care. He was near eighty years of age. Here
is the countenance of the poor old man; it is the face of


WEEPING.

[Illustration]

"The alterations that _Weeping_ causes are very strongly marked. The
eyebrows sink down towards the middle of the forehead; the eyes are
almost closed, wet and drawn down towards the cheeks; the nostrils
swelled; the muscles and veins of the forehead appear; the mouth is
shut, and the sides of it are drawn down, making wrinkles in the cheeks;
the under lip, pushed out, presses the upper one; the face is wrinkled
and contracted; its colour is red, especially about the eyebrows, the
eyes, the nose, and the cheeks.

"Is it not a pity, my dear children, that the latter years of a good old
man like this should be disturbed with grief--that an old man should
weep? The young scholar thought so too, for he sighed at this scene of
accumulated distress; but his attention was soon awakened to another
object. One of the officers (for they were determined to seize every
thing in the room) took a little sleeping infant from its cradle, and
laid it rudely on the floor, snatching away at the same time the clothes
on which it had been laid.

"Henry was rouzed with indignation at this brutal conduct, and stood in
need of all his moderation to prevent his instantly giving the wretch
the chastisement he deserved; but he restrained his passion, and
contented himself with throwing his purse on the table, demanding again,
in a lofty tone, the amount of the debt? The sight of the gold produced
an instantaneous effect on the mind of the principal of the officers,
and which discovered itself as promptly in his face; he replied in a
more civil tone, that ten louis was the amount of the sum demanded for
the rent and expences. Henry ordered him immediately to prepare a
receipt, which he did.

"When the money was paid, our young noble scholar exultingly _lifted the
little infant from the floor, and replaced it in the cradle_.

"Henry stood a minute over the child, which smiled as if conscious of
its protector's presence. Henry surveyed its features as it lay. Let us
seek for his countenance at the time. Are not these, my dear children,
his features? is not this the delightful countenance, the beauteous face
of


COMPASSION?

[Illustration]

"The lively attention to the misfortunes of another, which is called
_Compassion_, causes the eyebrows to sink towards the middle of the
forehead; the eyeball to be fixed upon the object; the sides of the
nostrils next the nose, to be a little elevated, making wrinkles in the
cheeks; the mouth to be open; the upper lip to be lifted up, and thrust
forward; the muscles, and all the parts of the face sinking down, and
turning towards the object which cause the passion.

"Yes, this is indeed the portrait of the scholar looking at the infant
in the cradle. What an assemblage of the noblest sentiments of the human
mind produce _Compassion_--love, tenderness and care for the
object--self is for the time totally forgotten. How different, my dear
children, is this face from that of the surly bailiff!

"The officers now took their leave, with each a servile bow, when the
poor widow, overcome by the kindness and generosity of the young
scholar, fell upon her knees, and invited her little children to do the
like, that they might thank God for having sent an angel to their
succour; while the old man, who was sitting by the fireside, lifted up
his hands in a silent prayer to Heaven, and wept for joy.

"The young scholar embraced the mother and all her little ones, among
whom he generously distributed the remainder of the louis in his purse,
and then took his leave, promising to see them again very soon.

"Henry mounted his horse amidst the acclamations of the people, who had
surrounded the house, and had heard of the way in which he had employed
his time. _Dieu vous benira_, 'God will bless you,' was reiterated from
every mouth.

"The young scholar kept his promise, for he often visited the cottage of
the poor widow, and represented her amiableness and situation in such
lively colours to the marchioness his mother, that she took the whole
family under her protection, placed them in a little way of business,
and helped them until by their own industry they had made themselves
independent.

"This, my dear children, was true generosity. The object was worthy: the
donor had the means to make happy; none were injured by the gift; no
just claims were left unpaid, and a poor family were made happy.

"This narrative will show you also, my dear children, the power and
goodness of the Almighty, who, by his Providence, ordered it so, that
what appeared to the poor widow as her greatest misfortune should turn
out to be the very means of affording her and her children a future
provision, and that much more ample than she could have expected. Thus,
my dear children, '_Providence, when none appears, can find itself a
way._'"

Mr. Willock had no sooner finished his story, than he had the pleasure
to observe his young people occupied in very serious reflections on what
they had heard. "My dear children," said he, "I am very much pleased for
the attention you have paid, and for the interest you have taken in the
misfortunes of the good widow. I shall leave you to enjoy the thoughts
of her good fortune, and of the change produced in her affairs by the
generosity of the young scholar. To-morrow evening, I will tell you a
story of another kind, where I shall have to represent to you some of
the worst of the passions of the human mind, such as you will hate and
detest, when you see their ugliness and deformity."

The next evening Mr. Willock resumed his office of lecturer, and was
fully attended by the young family.

"I am now," said he, "going to tell you a story, in which the passions
of horror, terror or fright, anger, hatred or jealousy, and despair,
will be represented; it is called


_The Wicked Baron, and Nicholas the Honest Wood-cutter._

"In the South part of the forest of Dean, in Gloucestershire, there
lived, many years ago, a poor wood-cutter, named Nicholas; he was not
more than thirty years of age, of a handsome figure, lusty, and strong.
Nicholas was rough and sturdy as an oak, but bent as tenderly to the
tale of distress as the gourd to the wind; he was apt, it is true, to be
a little ill-tempered at times, and somewhat sour; besides being a
little rude and unfashioned in his manners; but somehow or other, so
finely delineated were the characters of nature and truth in his mind,
that the outlines might be seen in his face, whenever distress or
misfortune claimed his protection.

"Nicholas had a wife named Gertrude, and she was naturally a good woman,
though she would fret and scold whenever they happened to be poor, which
was no uncommon case with them: they had nothing but hard labour to
trust to for support, and had a young boy to provide for; besides, it
unfortunately happened for both of them, that Gertrude was the daughter
of a once-wealthy farmer, but who had been ruined by a murrain among his
cattle. Gertrude had therefore received a little better education than
Nicholas, who could, however, read and write, a great wonder in those
days, and which he owed, when a boy, to the kind instructions of a good
old monk. Gertrude, who recollected her father's happy board, was
rather out of temper with her situation, and so foolish, as to be
constantly wishing for riches, and pining after wealth, which was never
likely to come to her share.

"It happened one night, after Nicholas had returned home from work, and
finding Gertrude cross, that something like the following conversation
took place between them; but, my dear children, you must avoid this
manner of speaking, which is only used among poor country people.

'My dear, how ill-tempered you are!' cried Nicholas.--'I may well be ill
tempered,' replied Gertrude; 'this is the last meal we shall have this
week.'--'That is more than you know, my dear,' answered her husband.--'I
am almost famished, I am,' cried Gertrude.--'Look at the poor cat, and
make yourself happy, my dear,' replied Nicholas.--'Well, there's your
supper,' cried Gertrude, taking a small piece of meat from the
pot.--'Supper do you call it,' answered Nicholas; 'why there's scarcely
enough to bait a mouse-trap: but wont you take a bit, my dear?'--'I
shant touch any of it,' answered Gertrude, peevishly.--'Well, for my
part,' replied Nicholas, 'I'll say grace even for this morsel.'

"Nicholas said all he could to put his wife in a good humour, but was
not lucky enough to succeed. She took it into her head that he was
bantering of her, and began to sob and cry, reproaching him with
bringing her into poverty.--'But it serves me right,' cried she. 'I
might have married a rich yeoman, so I might, and have had plenty, that
I might.'--'Shu, nonsense,' answered Nicholas. 'To throw myself away
upon a chopper of wood,' cried she; 'and there too, we have had to bring
up that idle boy, because, truly, you found him laid in the forest one
night.'--'Now don't say a word about that,' answered Nicholas, 'or I
shall get as ill-tempered as yourself, out of mere good nature.'

"While the wood-cutter and his wife were scolding in this way, some one
knocked loudly at the door, when after some more words about who should
open it, Nicholas went, and a stranger very elegantly dressed entered
the cottage. It was a tempest, and the night very dark.

'Good people,' said the stranger, 'will you afford a traveller shelter
from the storm?'--'Willingly, sir,' answered Nicholas.--'Very willingly,
sir,' interrupted Gertrude; 'wont you be pleased to sit down, sir?'

"The stranger was the rich Norman Baron de la Braunch.--'Well,' cried
he, 'Nicholas, how does fortune use thee?'--'Roughly enough,
sir.'--'Heaven knows,' replied Gertrude.--'Who told you to speak?'
interrupted Nicholas. 'My wife, sir, is always grumbling; she must,
forsooth, be longing after riches; and though I don't remember, by the
goodness of Providence, that we have ever wanted a meal, yet she is
always talking about starving.'--'Ay, ay, nobody knows what I suffer, I
am sure,' replied Gertrude; 'I might have married a rich yeoman, that I
might.'--'Come, come, good people,' cried the Baron, 'be better tempered
with each other: and do you think, good woman, that riches would make
you happy?'--'That they would, sir,' answered Gertrude; 'for rich folks
can eat and drink whatever they've a mind to, and can dress as they
please; and then they can feed ever so many poor people, and can make
ever so many folks happy.'--'Ah, ah, so they might, wife,' answered
Nicholas, 'and yet not be happy themselves, after all.'--'Well now, I
can't see how that can be,' replied Gertrude. 'I am sure I should like
hugely to be rich, and to have a castle, and forests, and deer of my
own, and plenty of servants.'--'And you are quite certain that you would
be happy if you were rich?' repeated the Baron.--'Yes, sir,' cried
Gertrude; 'and I would never scold my poor Nicholas any more, for he is
as good a creature as ever was in the world, though I was angry with him
just now; and to say the truth, I do not believe that he could have got
any more work to-day if he had tried ever so; but when one is poor, and
there is no meat in the pot, one is apt to be a little vexed and cross.'

"Nicholas wiped his eyes at this kind atonement of his wife Gertrude.

"The Baron went into a deep reverie--the storm was over--the Baron
arose, he pulled out a purse and put it into Gertrude's hand, and then
wished them a good-night.--Nicholas offered to see him through the
forest, but he declined the offer.

"The instant the Baron had left the cottage, Gertrude run to the lamp to
examine the purse; it was full of gold coin. 'Blessed St. Anthony,'
cried she, 'what is this? all gold! Nicholas, look here; see what
Providence has done for us.'--'Ay, I told you so,' answered Nicholas,
'and you are always grumbling.'--'Nay now, don't be cross, Nicholas,'
said Gertrude, 'when we've had so much good luck; look at it, Nicholas,
'tis all pure gold. I'll have a new dress, and, I'll go and wake poor
Henry, and tell him that he shall have a new coat.'--'And what am I to
have?' cried Nicholas.--'You shall see us all clean and happy.'--'Thank
ye,' answered the honest wood-cutter, 'that's all I want.'--'And we
will have a good piece of meat in the pot to-morrow,' cried
Gertrude.--'And I am sure you wont sleep to night,' answered
Nicholas.--'That I shant,' said she: 'well, who knows what good luck is
to follow?'--'Peace, Gertrude,' cried Nicholas, 'may not this money be a
temptation?'--'May it, Nicholas?'--'Who knows?' said Nicholas.--'If I
thought so,' answered Gertrude, 'I would not touch it.'--'Come, come,'
cried Nicholas, 'while it don't make us covetous after more, and lead us
to do wrong, we shall have nothing to fear. For my part, I shall work
the same as ever; but don't grumble, Gertrude.'--'You shall never hear a
cross word from me,' answered Gertrude.

"Thus did these poor cottagers end their discourse, and both sat down to
supper, pleased and happy; but they could neither of them rest at night
for thinking of their riches.

"Very different sentiments disturbed the repose of the Baron; he had
arrived at the height of his ambition; he was one of the richest knights
in the kingdom; enjoyed a good fame, and had the favour of the king: yet
he was not happy; he was a miserable wretch; the honesty and dignity of
a good mind was wanting; he was restless and disturbed in the possession
of wealth, and would almost have parted with the whole of it, again to
have been innocent.

"One day, about a twelvemonth after this time, Nicholas was at work in
the woods, with his boy Henry. A stranger had inquired for him at the
cot; Gertrude had directed him to the place where Nicholas was felling
trees. On the stranger's approach, he heard a man scolding--'What,'
cried he, 'do you think I am to keep you for nothing, you little lazy
monkey? why don't you get another withy, and bind up these faggots?'--'I
am at work, as fast as I can,' answered the boy, 'but you are so cross.
If you are tired of keeping me, I'll leave you to-morrow, and seek for
support elsewhere.'--'Leave me, that you shant,' cried Nicholas; 'I
found you in the forest one night, laid on the turf, a poor helpless
brat; humanity made me take you in; and though I am apt to be sour at
times, I have enough of the same humanity left to prevent your ever
being turned out.'--'You have, indeed, been very kind to me,' answered
the boy.'--'Well, shake hands, Henry,' said Nicholas, 'and think no more
of what has past.'

"When the stranger entered the close, he addressed Nicholas--'Come,'
said he, 'you must leave off and go with me.'--'Truly not I,' said
Nicholas, 'for I have not quite done.'--'No matter, thou must go to the
cottage. I have good news to tell thee.'--'Nay, if that be the case,'
said Nicholas, 'it is worth half a day's work; so here's pack
up.'--Nicholas proceeded with the stranger, and the boy Henry followed.

"On their arrival at the cottage, Gertrude welcomed her husband home,
and prepared a place for the stranger, who prefaced what he had to say
with some remarks on the extraordinary changes and vicissitudes of human
life; and then inquired if they remembered a stranger, of more than
common appearance, who had visited them one stormy night, about a
twelvemonth before?

"Nicholas and Gertrude both answered him, and told him of the present
they had received from that person.

'Now,' cried the stranger to Nicholas, 'I know that thou art truly the
man whom I seek; prepare to go with me to the castle of La Braunch,
thou, and thy wife and family.'--'Indeed, sir, you'll excuse me there,'
cried Nicholas; 'I shall not stir out any more to-day.'--'Do not be so
obstinate,' replied the stranger, 'for know, that he who gave you the
money a twelvemonth since, was the Baron de la Braunch.--He is dead, and
you are heir to all his rich demesnes.'--'I don't rightly understand
you,' answered the wood-cutter.--'The castle, the lands, all his real
and personal estate, is thine.'--'My dear, don't you understand the
gentleman?' cried Gertrude.--'Not I, in good faith,' answered
Nicholas.--'Why, don't you know that you have come to be a rich man, and
that the rich Baron has left you all that he was worth in the
world?'--'It is true, indeed,' answered the stranger; 'I am witness to
the will. When the Baron was dying, he desired a scroll of parchment to
be brought out of his library: his order was instantly obeyed--"This
scroll," said he, fixing his eye steadily upon it, "is my will. Thou
wilt find," said he, "in the forest of Dean, a solitary cottage,
inhabited by a wood-cutter and his wife. The name of the wood-cutter is
Nicholas; the name of his wife is Gertrude. These people are poor; they
wish for riches, and they _shall be_ rich; they shall be the heirs of
the Baron de la Braunch; who knows, perhaps to them riches may be a
blessing."--The Baron affixed his seal to the parchment, and soon after
expired in the arms of father Benedict.

'Well,' cried Nicholas, 'and what will become of me? What can I do with
all these riches?'--'Do with them; leave that to me,' said Gertrude,
quite overjoyed.--'I don't want to be put out of my way,' said
Nicholas.--Poor Gertrude, in the innocence of her heart, stopped the
mouth of her husband--'Dear Nicholas, do not affront the gentleman; I am
sure that I should like to be a lady very much; and to be sure I did
think that there was something very odd in the stranger's behaviour to
us that night, and took it into my head that he would do something for
us, though to be sure I did not think that he would die and leave us all
his wealth; but this gentleman would not say so if it was not true; so,
Nicholas, if you must be a rich man after all, why you must not mind a
little trouble.'--'Well,' replied Nicholas, 'if it must be so, there's
no help for it.'

"The stranger had provided a cloak, with a hat and a sword, with which
he accoutred the poor wood-cutter; and also a decent robe, which he
threw over the shoulders of Gertrude.

"Nicholas would not go without the boy Henry; so they shut up the
cottage, and set out together. It was late when they arrived at the
castle; they were conducted to a room provided for them, by the
direction of the stranger, who was the Baron's esquire Hathbrand, when
having caused one of the wardrobes of the Baron to be opened, he
selected such of the plainest dresses as he thought would best become
Nicholas, Gertrude, and the young boy Henry. Gertrude was, however, very
desirous of being fine, and was also much pleased with the attention of
Ranetrude, the waiting-woman appointed to attend on her.

"Doric the old steward, Jonas the butler, and all the rest of the
servants, were ordered to get themselves in readiness the next morning,
to attend the reading of the Baron's will, and to receive their new
master.

"The story was already spread abroad, that the Baron had left his
immense wealth to a poor wood-cutter; and numerous were the remarks and
low witticisms on the subject, from old Doric, Jonas, and the other
servants, as they waited in the hall, among the numerous tenantry of the
Baron, to hear the will read, and to receive their new lord.

"At length Nicholas and Gertrude, attended by Hathbrand the squire, and
Ranetrude, entered the hall.--Nicholas saluted the domestics and tenants
without awkwardness, and stept forward without dismay.

"Hathbrand held the parchment in his hand; he spoke--My friends, peace
be with you all; I here produce the will of the late Baron de la
Braunch. Attend--"Know all men, that I the Baron de la Braunch, do give
and bequeath to Nicholas le Blanc, of the forest of Dean, all the real
and personal estate of which I now stand possessed, on condition that he
visits the third chamber in the western turret alone, there to unlock
the chest which contains the title-deeds, and that he never divulges the
secrets they will unfold." The third chamber in the western turret had
not been used for many years, as the eastern part of the castle had been
inhabited by the Baron.

"Nicholas ascended the western turret alone, and after some difficulty
opened the door of the third chamber, when he entered, and discovered in
a remote corner a large iron chest, the key of which was hanging near
the entrance. Nicholas attempted to open it; at length by an effort he
succeeded; he lifted up the lid, and took out a large scroll of
parchment. Nicholas read--'_The title of the Baron de la Braunch to
these demesnes is murder!_'

"Nicholas let fall the scroll, but recovered it again; he run into the
gallery, and then stood motionless.

"And now, my dear children," said Mr. Willock, "let us find something
like the face of honest Nicholas, when he was reading how bad a title he
had to the riches bequeathed him. Here it is, expressive of his
abhorrence of the crime, and of the object who left him his wealth. This
is the face of


HORROR.

[Illustration]

"An object despised, says Le Brun, sometimes causes _Horror_; and then
the eyebrow knits, and sinks a great deal more; the eyeball placed at
the bottom of the eye, is half covered by the lower eyelid; the mouth is
half open, but closer in the middle than the sides, which being drawn
back, make wrinkles in the cheeks; the face grows pale, and the eyes
become livid; the muscles and the veins are marked.

"But to continue--While Nicholas was gone to the western turret,
refreshment was prepared in the hall, and Gertrude and Henry waited
anxiously for his return to partake of it with them. The honest old
steward and Jonas the butler had not been sparing of expence on the
occasion: so that the entertainment was as superb as if the Baron had
been alive. They had begun to like their new master, who was a bold
generous fellow, and they were determined to show him all the respect
and homage they could, notwithstanding he had been a wood-cutter.

"They were waiting in suspense for Nicholas; presently his steps were
heard descending the stairs quickly. He entered in great
agitation--'Gertrude,' was all that he could say; his face was the face
of


TERROR.

[Illustration]

as represented by Le Brun. The violence of this passion alters all the
parts of the face; the eyebrows rise in the middle; its muscles are
marked, swelled, pressed one against the other, and sunk towards the
nose, which draws up as well as the nostrils; the eyes are very open;
the upper eyelid is hid under the eyebrow; the white of the eye is
encompassed with red; the eyeball fixes towards the lower part of the
eye; the lower part of the eyelid swells, and becomes livid; the muscles
of the nose and cheeks swell, and these last terminate in a point
towards the sides of the nostrils; the mouth is very open, and its
corners very apparent; the muscles and veins of the neck are
stretched; the hair stands an end; the colour of the face, that is, the
end of the nose, the lips, the ears, and round the eyes, is pale and
livid. Such was the face of honest Nicholas. He fell into a chair, and
let drop the scroll.

'Heavens! what ails my poor Nicholas?' cried Gertrude; 'speak, speak to
me, Nicholas.'--'Let us to our cottage, Gertrude,' replied Nicholas,
'let us to our cottage!'--'What ails you, my dear Nicholas?' said
Gertrude, feeling his hand. 'Oh dear, how cold!'--'Read, read!' said
Nicholas.

"Hathbrand took up the scroll, and read--'_Know, thou who longest after
riches, that the title to these estates is murder_; the infant heir to
these demesnes was on Christmas night, now fourteen years since, left to
perish in the forest of Dean.'

'What is that?' cried Nicholas; 'read it again; as I live, the very
night I found our poor Henry.'--'The very night indeed,' repeated
Gertrude.--'Are you sure of this?' interrupted Hathbrand.--'Most
certain, sir,' replied Nicholas. 'I remember the night very well; it was
bitter cold. Oh dear! oh dear! this is all Providence! this is all
Providence!'

"Nicholas embraced Henry: Gertrude embraced him also.

"Henry wept; he understood all that was said; he took the hand of
Nicholas--'Thou hast fed me,' said he, 'out of thy scanty pittance; thou
must not leave me, Nicholas. I have no friend that I know of, but my
dear Nicholas.'

"Nicholas consented to remain in a cottage near the castle, but refused
to be rich. Gertrude had no longer any desire to be rich.

"Hathbrand and the servants were delighted to find their young master so
noble and gallant a youth, and immediately did him homage.

"As they were speaking of these surprising events, father Benedict
entered; he brought with him Hugo, a wretch whom the Baron, in his
confessions, had accused of being his accomplice, and who had left the
child to perish in the woods; he was strongly guarded, but denied the
charge; he bid defiance to the power of his accusers, and insisted that
the Baron had died in a state of insanity.

"Surely here are the features of this bravo, full of defiance and
resentment; is it not the face of


ANGER?

[Illustration]

"The effects of anger shew its nature; the eyes become red and inflamed;
the eyeball is staring and sparkling; the eyebrows are sometimes
elevated, and sometimes sunk down equally; the forehead is very much
wrinkled, with wrinkles between the eyes; the nostrils are open and
enlarged; the lips pressing against one another; the under one rising
over the upper one, leaves the corners of the mouth a little open,
making a cruel and disdainful grin.

"The Baron had, however, confessed his own wickedness, and the cause of
his cruelty towards the infant. The facts were these. The Baron Hubert,
who was ordered to Palestine, left his wife lady Bertha, and his child
Edward, under the protection of his friend, the Baron de la Braunch:
lord Hubert was killed in the crusade, and his lady died soon after,
leaving the infant under the guardianship of the Baron, who fearing that
one day the child would be likely to succeed to his father's
possessions, it became hateful to him. The mind of the Baron was set
upon the wealth of his deceased friend; he was constantly jealous and
disturbed at the sight of the infant; he had laid a plan to destroy
it.--What a dreadful situation it must have been to have had a mind like
his! When once such wicked ideas are entertained, there is an end of
all rest, of all enjoyment, and of all comfort. The face represents the
storm that agitates the breast. It is horrid even to look at it. How
does Le Brun describe it?"


HATRED or JEALOUSY.

[Illustration]

"This passion wrinkles the forehead; the eyebrows are sunk down and
knit; the eyeball is half hid under the eyebrows, which turn towards the
object; it should appear full of fire, as well as the white of the eye
and the eyelid; the nostrils open, more marked than ordinary, and drawn
backward, so as to make wrinkles on the cheeks; the mouth is so shut as
to show the teeth, and very much sunk down; the muscles of the jaw
appear sunk; the colour of the face is partly inflamed, and partly
yellowish; the lips pale or livid.

"The infant was taken into the woods by Hugo, where it was left to
perish; and the wicked Baron soon contrived to persuade the domestics
that the child had died of a fever; and had even a mock burial, the
better to deceive them.

"But, my dear children," said Mr. Willock, "if the former was the
countenance of the wicked Baron before he committed the crime, how did
it appear now? instead of finding that he could enjoy his riches, his
mind was full of horror and dismay; his anguish became extreme; his face
appeared not only deformed but hideous; the forehead wrinkled from the
top to the bottom; the eyebrows bent down over the eyes, and pressing
one another on the sides of the nose; the eyes seemingly on fire, and
full of blood; the eyeball disturbed, and under the eyebrows, sparkling
and unfixed; the eyelid swelled and livid; the nostrils large, open, and
lifted up; the end of the nose sunk down; the muscles, leaders, and
veins, swelled and stretched; the upper part of the cheeks large,
marked, and narrow towards the jaw; the mouth drawn backwards, more open
at the sides than in the middle; the lower lip large and turned out, he
gnashes his teeth, foams, bites his lips, which are pale, as is the rest
of the face; the hair is strait, and stands an end; such was the picture
of the wicked Baron, the picture of


DESPAIR.

"What a dreary thing, my dear children, must be despair--afflicted by an
accusing conscience, and bereft of hope! What would this wicked man have
given, after he had parted with his ill-gotten wealth, to have found the
child alive! but that felicity was denied him living; he was to die in
affliction.

"The wicked Hugo was taken to prison to await his punishments.--But let
us turn to a more agreeable subject--the honest wood cutter, who could
refuse all the allurements of wealth, because it was ill-gotten; even
his wife Gertrude, who loved riches, disdained to enjoy them on such
terms. What a lesson does this afford to us to be noble in mind, and to
resist temptation! The good do not feel any of the violent passions;
they are moderate and temperate in all they do; they are undisturbed,
and through all the changes of life may depend on that Providence, the
recollection of which occasioned the great and good Jonas Hanway; who
founded the Marine Society, to use the motto--'_Never Despair_.'

"Never, then, my dear children, suffer your young minds to long after
riches, when they cannot be purchased by fair and honest means; for you
may rest assured that it is much better to prefer,

    "_The wise man's choice, by which you'll find,
    No wealth is like a quiet mind_."


_FINIS._

Printed by Lane, Darling, & Co. Leadenhall Street, London.



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_Bound in Red Leather, elegant Plates._

  Chapone's Letters on the Mind                          1  3
  Chesterfield's (Lord) Advice to his Son                1  3
  Death of Abel, by Gessner                              1  3
  Economy of Human Life                                  1  3
  Gay's Fables                                           1  3
  Gregory's Legacy to his Daughters                      1  3
  Indian Cottage and Coffee-House of Surat               1  3
  Rowe's Devout Exercises                                1  3
  Rasselas, by Dr. Johnson                               1  3
  Wisdom in Miniature                                    1  3
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  Jack Daw "at Home;" or the Rout of the Birds
    that were not invited by the Peacock                 1  6
  Jack the Giant-Killer                                  1  6
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  Madame Grimalkin's Party, or the Cat's Concert         1  6
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Transcriber's Notes:

Italic text is denoted by _underscores_ and bold text by =equal signs=.

Obvious punctuation errors and minor printer errors repaired.

Every effort has been made to replicate this text as faithfully as
possible, including obsolete and variant spellings and other
inconsistencies.

Table of Contents added by transcriber.

p20: Unintelligible marks and printing gap in the original book
precedes (Caroline began now to show some impatience)

p111: Unintelligible marks and printing gap in the original book
precedes (Boadicea had a constant antipathy)

Some of the prices in the list of books at the back of the book were not
clear in the original book, so a best guess has been made.





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