Front Matter
 Title Page
 Chapter I
 Chapter II
 Chapter III
 Chapter IV
 Chapter V
 Chapter VI
 Chapter VII
 Chapter VIII
 Chapter IX

Title: son of a genius
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00057933/00001
 Material Information
Title: son of a genius
Series Title: son of a genius
Physical Description: Book
Language: English
Creator: Hofland
Publisher: Grant and Griffith
Place of Publication: London
Publication Date: 1850
Edition: Fifteenth ed.
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00057933
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier: ltuf - ALK1154
alephbibnum - 002249421

Table of Contents
    Front Matter
        Front Matter 1
        Front Matter 2
    Title Page
        Page 1
        Page 2
        Page 3
        Page 4
    Chapter I
        Page 5
        Page 6
        Page 7
        Page 8
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 11
        Page 12
        Page 13
        Page 14
        Page 15
        Page 16
        Page 17
        Page 18
        Page 19
        Page 20
        Page 21
        Page 22
        Page 23
        Page 24
        Page 25
        Page 26
        Page 27
    Chapter II
        Page 28
        Page 29
        Page 30
        Page 31
        Page 32
        Page 33
        Page 34
        Page 35
        Page 36
        Page 37
        Page 38
        Page 39
        Page 40
        Page 41
        Page 42
        Page 43
        Page 44
        Page 45
        Page 46
    Chapter III
        Page 47
        Page 48
        Page 49
        Page 50
        Page 51
        Page 52
        Page 53
        Page 54
        Page 55
        Page 56
        Page 57
        Page 58
        Page 59
        Page 60
        Page 61
        Page 62
        Page 63
        Page 64
        Page 65
        Page 66
        Page 67
        Page 68
        Page 69
    Chapter IV
        Page 70
        Page 71
        Page 72
        Page 73
        Page 74
        Page 75
        Page 76
        Page 77
        Page 78
        Page 79
        Page 80
        Page 81
        Page 82
        Page 83
        Page 84
        Page 85
        Page 86
        Page 87
        Page 88
        Page 89
        Page 90
        Page 91
        Page 92
        Page 93
        Page 94
        Page 95
        Page 96
        Page 97
        Page 98
    Chapter V
        Page 99
        Page 100
        Page 101
        Page 102
        Page 103
        Page 104
        Page 105
        Page 106
        Page 107
        Page 108
        Page 109
        Page 110
        Page 111
        Page 112
        Page 113
        Page 114
        Page 115
        Page 116
        Page 117
        Page 118
        Page 119
        Page 120
        Page 121
    Chapter VI
        Page 122
        Page 123
        Page 124
        Page 125
        Page 126
        Page 127
        Page 128
        Page 129
        Page 130
        Page 131
        Page 132
        Page 133
        Page 134
        Page 135
        Page 136
        Page 137
        Page 138
        Page 139
        Page 140
        Page 141
        Page 142
        Page 143
        Page 144
        Page 145
        Page 146
        Page 147
        Page 148
        Page 149
        Page 150
        Page 151
        Page 152
        Page 153
        Page 154
        Page 155
        Page 156
        Page 157
        Page 158
        Page 159
        Page 160
        Page 161
        Page 162
        Page 163
        Page 164
        Page 165
        Page 166
        Page 167
        Page 168
        Page 169
        Page 170
    Chapter VII
        Page 171
        Page 172
        Page 173
        Page 174
        Page 175
        Page 176
        Page 177
        Page 178
        Page 179
        Page 180
        Page 181
        Page 182
        Page 183
        Page 184
        Page 185
        Page 186
        Page 187
        Page 188
        Page 189
        Page 190
        Page 191
        Page 192
        Page 193
        Page 194
        Page 195
        Page 196
        Page 197
        Page 198
        Page 199
        Page 200
        Page 201
        Page 202
        Page 203
        Page 204
        Page 205
    Chapter VIII
        Page 206
        Page 207
        Page 208
        Page 209
        Page 210
        Page 211
        Page 212
        Page 213
        Page 214
        Page 215
        Page 216
        Page 217
        Page 218
        Page 219
        Page 220
        Page 221
        Page 222
        Page 223
        Page 224
        Page 225
        Page 226
        Page 227
        Page 228
        Page 229
        Page 230
        Page 231
        Page 232
        Page 233
        Page 234
        Page 235
        Page 236
        Page 237
        Page 238
        Page 239
    Chapter IX
        Page 240
        Page 241
        Page 242
        Page 243
        Page 244
        Page 245
        Page 246
        Page 247
        Page 248
        Page 249
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Full Text

Drw :riawvd bv H. Mdvino.





"iy ihe b o lasbtstm; hb" r, fwr khe i thy IIUf."



4. 43, sihootui



MT Duata ox,
It is now more than fourteen years since I dedi-
cated to you this little Work, which was prompted by
a mother's anxiety to secure you and other children
of your description, from an inordinate and unchecked
admiration of Genius. From infancy you had given
indications of that disposition of mind which, though
it might justify my hopes, necessarily excited my fear
also, and called upon me to use every means in my
power for restraining its ardour, and regulating its
sensibility. It is my happiness to recollect that the
impressions made upon your heart by the moral cha-
racter of Indovion wen decidedly exemplified in early
life, and to believe that they prepared you to enouon-
ter, with the humility of a Chrisian, and the firmness
of a man, severe and unexpected trials, and in mome
measure laid the foundation of virtues most becoming
the acred profession to which, from the purest motives,
you have devoted your future life.

It is under this idea, that I offer you again tat
which although a suitable gift to a boy of thirteen,
would be no longer such to you, save as it is connected
with the solicitude and affection of a mother, thankful
that her little labour of love" was kindly appreciated,
and dutifully esteemed, by her only son. Another
reason may be found in the success of the story, which
is perhaps unprecedented towards a book so humble
in pretension, and hitherto insignificant in appearance.
It has been translated into every European language;
and in France, Germany, and Holland,* gone through
numerous editions ;-the wise have condescended to
praise it-the good to circulate it; therefore I have
some right to claim for it that consideration you are
always so willing to bestow on every effort of mine.
I am, my dear Frederic,
Your truly affectionate Mother,

The succeu of this work in the United States of
America is surprising.




No jealousy their dawn of love o'ercast,
Nor blasted were their wedded days with strife;
Each season looked delightful as it pass'd,
Found in the lowly vale of shepherd life.

"Depend upon it, Mrs. Lewis, your son is
a boy of genius, mcommom geniuw," said a
gentleman to the wife of an Artist, as he look-
ed over some loose sketches which lay upon
her work-table, at one end of which sat a
sickly-looking boy of about twelve years old,


at work with his pencil; and who now look-
ing up, exhibited his pale face, so illuminated
by the pleasure praise seldom fails to con-
vey, however administered, that the gentle-
man thought he had seldom seen so intelli-
gent a countenance, or been regarded with
a look so prepossessing. He was recalled
from his observations on the boy, by the
words which immediately fell from the mo-
ther, accompanied by a look of apprehensive
tenderness lest her son should be injured by
the flattery he had incautiously conveyed.
"Indeed, sir, you are mistaken: my son
has no Genius, but he has industry; and
sufficient talent to make that industry profit-
able, I hope."
You underrate his powers, ma'am; I am
convinced he has really Genius, and will some
day cut a very great figure in the world:
you must not damp the ardour, or be too
severe on the eccentricities, of a mind like
his: he who can do such things as these are
now, will at a future period claim the highest
honours fame can bestow."
The mother answered by a deep sigh; and


as the tears -rose into her eyes, involuntarily,
though almost inarticulately, exclaimed, "God
forbid that he should seek them !" The gen-
tleman was sorry to see her so much affected,
though he concluded that she was a weak
woman, whose stupidity, vulgarity, or obsti-
nacy of mind, was but too likely to injure
the expanding talents of her son ; and though
the meekness of her manner, and the sweet
dejection of her countenance, had somewhat
interested him in her favour, when he first
entered her apartment, he quitted it with a
sense of sorrow for the wan-looking boy, and
vexation at the perverse mother, whom he
considered the cruel controller of Genius she
could not comprehend, and therefore sought
to repel, by reducing the high soaring of
fancy to the drudgery of common labour and
the fatigue of incessant application.
The gentleman was extremely mistaken in
this conclusion; for Mrs. Lewis was a woman
* of strong natural understanding, and had
some portion of that finer perception of
beauty and excellence, which, in whatever
path it walks, may be designated genitu;

but she had an aversion to the word, amount-
ing almost to horror, from having observed
its application tend to injure, either nearly or
remotely, every one to whom it had been her
lot to see it applied. It was in her mind
associated with imprudence, imbecility, folly,
or vice; made the excuse for one man's
eccentricities, another man's errors, and not
unfrequently connected with the crimes of a
third. No wonder that she shrunk from its
application to a son, who, notwithstanding
his pale looks, and her apparent suppression
of his exultation, was to her the very soul of
all her earthly hopes, and had been nourish-
ed by her with a tenderness so exquisite, a
love so unceasing in its care, and so judicious
in its efforts, that in relating the history of
this mother and her son, we flatter ourselves
every young person who, like him, has been
praised for this rare, indefinite, and often
blameably-extolled quality, so much the sub-
ject of attention in the present day, will see
the folly of depending upon it, either for
happiness or respectability, in Ais8 world, and
the sin of daring to make it an excuse for


neglecting that "which is to come." Also,
that those young people whose more moderate
talents, or less vivid imagination, have pre-
served their minds from being inflated by
this silly method of extolling that which im-
plies no merit, since it exacts no exertion,
will learn that much may be gained by
industry, even where Nature has not been
liberal; and that the attainments for which
men, in all stations and all ages, were most
esteemed, were the result of patient investi-
gation, unwearied diligence, and incessant
labour: without these, the most brilliant
talents have failed to produce either indi-
vidual comforts or true celebrity. In pro-
portion as the mind is endued with higher
powers and acuter sensibilities, it is annoyed
with stronger passions and more dangerous
propensities, and calls, in a more peculiar
manner, for the control of reason, and the
aids and restrictions of religion, without
which the widest soaring of human intellect
are as liable to error as the weakest con-
clusions of the most bounded judgment, in
all that most interest us as accountable and


immortal beings, called to consider this
world as but the passage to another, which is
to last for ever and ever.
Mr. Rumney, the father of Mrs. Lewis,
was a clergyman who resided on a very small
living in Cumberland: he was married to a
plain, sensible, good woman, the daughter of
a neighboring farmer, by whom he had five
children; of whom Agnes was the eldest very
considerably, as the two children who suc-
ceeded her were both taken off by the diseases
incident to infancy. This circumstance was
an advantage to her; as, by rendering her
for some time the sole object of her father's
attention, it secured for her all the instruc-
tion such as a companion could bestow; so
that before she was called to participate in her
mother's duties in her household depart-
ment, she had gained as much knowledge of
the rudiments of education as was necessary
to give her a taste for improvement, which
never fails to lead youth into such a dis-
position of their time, as to enable them to
seize every precious moment circumstances
will allow for mental cultivation; and the


little thus acquired is too dear, too valuable,
to be wasted and misapplied. Thus, amidst
incessant occupation and various petty cares,
Agnes became mistress of much estimable
knowledge, notwithstanding the obscurity in
which she lived, and the necessity of attend-
ing to all the common cares of life inseparable
from narrow circumstances. She was well
read in the Bible, she thoroughly understood
the prayers and the doctrines of her own
church, and had a sufficient knowledge of the
various modes in which others professed the
Christian faith,-to feel charity for all, and
respect for many. She had likewise read the
history of the Jews, that of her own country,
and as much of the Greek and Roman as
enabled her to converse with her father on
the subjects to which he occasionally referred
relative to those extraordinary people. She
was likewise conversant in Thomson's Sea-
sons, Goldsmith's Deserted Village, and
Gray's Poems; had read three volumes of
the Spectator, one of the Rambler, and all
Tilloteon's Sermons. To this stock of eru-
dition, which, however humble it may ap-


pear to those more highly favoured, had left
a mind of native strength and energy by no
means poorly endowed, she added a know-
ledge of her needle above the common stand-
ard ; she had an excellent ear, and sung and
read with singular sweetness and fluency;
she wrote a neat hand, understood her own
language, and was not ignorant of Latin;
to which it may be added, that she knew
sufficient mineralogy, botany, and natural
philosophy, to render her entertaining to her
father and useful to her mother; but as
these were endowments received in the way
of chit-chat, it never entered the mind of
Agnes to class them amongst her attainments.
In the circle of her own parish there were a
few young women similarly instructed by her
father, or other friends: so that her mind
was neither left to the dangerous contem-
plation of its own superiority, which is often
the case in secluded situations; nor, as she
saw no one superior to her, was she led to
repine at their advantages, or sink under
the consciousness of humiliating inferiority.
Hence arose a proper estimation of herself,


a solidity of character, a temperance, pro-
priety, and self-possession, which, combined
with deep and fervent piety, unaffected sen-
sibility, and true modesty, rendered her not
less estimable then engaging, and promised
that the virtuous woman would succeed to
the duteous and tender daughter.
At the period we now speak of, it was not
so much the fashion, as at present, to ex-
plore the beauties of the mountain scenery of
Cumberland; and the remote village where
Mr. Rumney held the "noiseless tenor of
his way," lay too far from the more striking
objects sought in the tour of the lakes to
have awakened curiosity, though it boasted
many singular beauties; and the inhabitants
of Newkirkdale knew nothing more of the
lords and ladies, artists and virtuosi, who
visited Keswick and Paterdale now and then,
than what was transmitted to them thence
on market-days and fairs, where the good
pastor and his wife occasionally went for the
necessary supply of such things as could not
be procured elsewhere. At the distance of
about five miles was a gentleman's seat; but


it was seldom visited by the owners above
once in three or four years, when they came
for the purpose of grouse-shooting; but
which visits generally afforded much plea-
sure to Mr. Rumney, as the squire ever
treated him with respect, and generally
brought him a present of some books, which
was the most welcome one he could receive.
On these occasions Mrs. Rumney generally
became a possessor of a dozen or two of wine,
which was carefully hoarded as a kind of
parish-stock, to which every sick person in
her vicinity might look as long as there was
any left; for, as the good priest was the spi-
ritual father of his flock, considering their
joys, sorrows, unions, and differences, as his
own immediate care, so his pious and
worthy partner, according to her utmost
ability, left nothing undone that could con-
tribute to their welfare. To her little stock
of superfluities they all looked in the hour of
want, and to her knowledge in that of suffer-
ing; her kindness was their comfort, and
her skill their consolation; and, of course,
her joys were their joys, and ker sorrows


were their aMictions. When the pastor'
crop failed, the poorest parishioner he had
found a sheaf for his minister's barn; when
his lambs died, every shepherd around re-
joiced when Aei ewes produced twins, be-
cause it furnished an excuse for offering one
to his worship.
The inhabitants of this part of England
enjoy a degree of equality unknown to any
other; and which, though it prevents the
accumulation of property in the degree in
which it is generally diffused over the island,
yet prevents also much poverty, and the
evils arising from servility. The land is
almost universally held by a kind of little
gentry, who, being owners, not farmers, en-
joy all the independence of country squires,
though they are often nearly as poor as their
cottagers. These call themselves statesmen
-the eldest son is sole heir; and it is by no
means uncommon to find them residents on
the very spot where their fathers have lived
from before the Conquest: and it is their
pride to persist, as far as they are able, in
all the customs which prevailed in the day


of their forefathers,-a circumstance inimical
to improvement, but beneficial to morals.
As the annals of a family transmit naturally
the most favourable side of its character, so
the present possessor is called upon to pre-
serve, unimpaired, the good faith, integrity,
or religious disposition, of his forefathers;
and becomes bound to certain restraints on
his passions, which cannot fail to be bene-
ficial to himself, and furnish an example to
his children and neighbours of the greatest
utility. As the native good sense and vigor-
ous intellect of men, soberly exercised, lead
them to consider what is really good in that
which increasing civilization offers to their
attention, it may be fairly inferred that the
Cumberland and Westmoreland little land-
holders do not reject many essential advan-
tages, at this day, by adhering to the prac-
tice of their fathers, whilst they retain a
considerable portion of that which is really
good from their amiable partiality.
Amongst the principal blessings thus de-
rived, may be considered the universality of
learning; at least, such a portion of it as we


have assigned to Agnes. In every family
the Bible is read, and commented upon by
the master or mistress of the house; and as
much of profane history understood, as is
connected with it, and tends to cast light
upon it; and to this is usually added a know-
ledge of local history, connected with that of
the country. A taste for poetry is prevalent
also, by a natural analogy with the minds of
a people who inhabit a sublime and pic-
turesque country, often the seat of border
warfare, and still subject to feudal tenures;
-circumstances which all have a tendency
to inspire the mind with images of beauty,
terror, and interest, which constitute the very
best essence of poetry, and give it the power
of delighting the imagination without cor-
rupting the heart.
To return from a digression which, we
trust, was not useless, since it may serve to
help many a wanderer from these sequestered
glades to recall to their minds, and, I trust,
their affections, the simple people they have
left behind; and those who have not been
acquainted with them, to contemplate a new


order in society, which, however remote from
their own circle, can never be contemptible
or unworthy their notice; we proceed to say,
that during the autumn, when Agnes Rum-
ney had completed her nineteenth year, the
gentleman in question visited his seat, after
an absence of four years, accompanied by
several friends from the South, and having,
amongst other inmates, a young artist of
great abilities, who came into this country
for the purpose of taking sketches of the
romantic scenery it so profusely exhibits.
Mr. Rumney, on his visit to the great
house, returned under the pleasing impres-
sion refined society never fails to give the
mind calculated for enjoying it, when but
rarely admitted to the intellectual feast; but
he dwelt more on the pleasure the young
artist's conversation had given him, than on
all the rest: his wit, his eloquence, the va-
riety of his information, the versatility of his
manners, the brilliancy of his imagination,
the sublimity of his conceptions,-all were by
turns the theme of the good man's praise;
and Agnes and her mother listened till they


partook his enthusiasm, and ardently desired
to become acquainted with this extraordinary
Their wishes were gratified much sooner
than they expected, for Mr. Lewis, the artist,
having been much pleased with the simpli-
city, sanctity, and good sense of the Cum-
berland divine-and being accustomed to
pursue, with enthusiasm, whatever had the
power to attract him-and to admire or de-
spise, love or hate, whatever lay in his path,
paid Mr. Rumney an early visit, desiring to
be led by him into some of those scenes where
he could pursue his delightful avocation;
after spending some hours at which, he
would return to partake of his dinner.
The master of the house heard this with
pleasure; the mistress, on hospitable
thoughts intent," ran to apprize Agnes of
the expected guest, and they united in
straining every nerve to add to the comforts
of their plain but hospitable table. Mr. Lewis
was charmed with all he saw, but especially
with Agnes, -the delight he felt he com-
municated; for the brilliancy of his conver.

THEN aw o A lIim.

astiom mseded even what it had done in a
higher circle; and Mr. Rumney, perhaps
battered by that circumstance, exclaimed,
the moment after he had shaken hands at
parting with him, Well, what do you say
to this wonderful young man! Have you
ever seen any thing*like him !"
Never," returned his wife; "but still I
liked him best when he took the children on
his knee, and told them about his pranks and
misfortunes when he was a little one."
"That was natural enough for you, my
love; but he has pleased me more than any
thing, by explaining those peculiarities in
perspective, which have so often puzzled me
when ascending the mountains."
"I admired him the most," said Agnes,
timidly, "when, at the very moment he was
quoting that fine passage of poetry, at the
name of mother, his own seemed to cross his
mind, his eyes filled with tears, and he was
unable to proceed; for then I knew that,
surprising and clever as he is, his heart felt
just as my own would have done at such a
sad remembrance."


"Bless thee, my bonny bairn," said the
mother, tenderly kissing her; "his mother,
with all the joy she must once have had in
such a son, could not be happier than I am
in my Aggy."
Mr. Lewis's visit was soon renewed, and in
a short time he became almost a constant in-
mate in the family; and as the timidity of
Agnes gave way, and he discovered the abi-
lities she possessed, it was evident that he
became more pleased with her conversation
than even her person, which was uncommonly
attractive, though less striking to an inha-
bitant than a stranger, as in her neigh-
bourhood almost every woman is delicately
fair, and elegantly formed; but there was
something in the unpretending good sense,
the artless propriety, and dignified submis-
sion, which marked the manner of Agnes in
every action of her life, added to the com-
passionate tenderness and lively devotion
which was occasionally exhibited in her con-
duct, that struck the feelings and attached
the heart of Mr. Lewis. He had spent much
time amongst the great, the gay, and the ac-

complished,-where his various talents, ele-
gant manners, and fine person, had attracted
their attention, and induced them to call
forth all their powers of pleasing, since every
person is anxious to be appreciated by those
they consider proficients or judges: but he
had never yet met with a young woman at
once so simple and so wise, as Agnes: and
he yielded with his accustomed submission
to the prevailing impulse-to the passion
which she had inspired, and which it was
not difficult to render reciprocal in one al-
ready prepossessed in his favour.
With an open countenance and ingenuous
heart, Lewis honourably confessed to his re-
verend friend, that his paternal fortune was
small, and nearly consumed by the unavoid-
able expenses contracted in pursuing his art;
that he believed he had not since the loss of
his parents, conducted his affairs with all the
prudence in the world; and that he was sub-
ject to impetuosity of temper, which some-
times hurried him into extravagances he af-
wards repented of, and follies he despised;
" But," he added, I have a heart capable


of unbounded tenderness, of sublime devotion,
and deep contrition. Thank God, my
nature is undebased by vicious propensity,
my name unstained by reproach; my errors
have been the errors of yenius, and have a
claim on the mercy of all who know how to
estimate the peculiarities attached to it."
The frankness and humility of confession
never fail to interest the heart; and there
was little doubt but the rector gave full
credit to his young friend for all that was
most amiable in his conduct, in this; and
the consciousness that he had not a shilling
in the world to give his daughter, induced
him to believe that it would ill become Aim
to make any remarks on pecuniary matters.
Lightly as Mr. Lewis thought of his own
property, it appeared wealth in the eyes of
the good man, who had never possessed half
so much in his life; and as he had heard him
spoken of at the hall as a man of prodigious
genius, who would be an honour -to his coun-
try, and had actually beheld him receive a
sum of money for one picture, equal to his
whole income, he could not form any idea of


want being attached to his daughter's future
situation; and concluded that this indirect
method of re-assuring his mind on a subject
for which he felt no fears, was amongst the
eccentricities which, in despite of his affection,
he had sometimes painfully contemplated in
his amiable young friend.
But on other subjects the good man felt it
a duty to be more explicit: he had many
conversations with Mr. Lewis on morals and
religion; on all of which the young man
spoke with an air of lively animation and
deep interest-as one that felt all the beauty
of virtue, and the excellence of Christianity:
-"'Tis true," said the pastor, as relating
these conversations to his anxious wife, "he
does not enter into particular disquisitions
on lesser points quite so much as I could
wish; but I impute this to the difficulty of
restraining that soaring fancy and ardent
spirit, which naturally mingles its rhapsodies
with the contemplation of divine things in
the mind of a man of genius, and prevents
him from stooping in all things to the letter
of the law, by inspiring him with more noble


conceptions, more exalted views of the ex-
cellence of our holy religion, and the beauty
of truth, than minds of a common cast are
favoured with."
Mrs. Rumney's mind, though sensible,
acute, and vigorous, had been so long under
the complete guidance of her husband,
through whose more cultivated intellect, as
a faithful medium, she looked on every ob-
ject, that it was no wonder she saw as he did,
in an instance where her affections, like his
own, were drawn forcibly towards one, who
appeared not only calculated to make her
daughter happy, but to raise her to that
station of life they naturally concluded their
beloved child was calculated to adorn; and
where it was probable her good example
might be efficacious to others, and not un-
likely that her acquaintance with that world
to which they were nearly strangers, might
enable her, in various ways, to benefit the
younger branches of their still increasing
family. Under these united considerations,
therefore, they bestowed Agnes on the young
man, in the fullest confidence of her happi-


ness; perceiving that she was most tenderly
attached to him, and that she looked up to
him with that veneration for his wisdom, and
admiration of his talents, which they thought
the proper characteristics of a wife's affec-
tion. On his part, there was a sentiment of
love so nearly approaching to idolatry for
her, that the worthy pastor would have
thought it a subject for his severe reprehen-
sion; since in his opinion (which was al-
ways regulated by the word of God), "in-
ordinate affection," even for the most ami-
able human being, was in a degree sinful;
but he concluded that this sensation was a
part of that enthusiasm which was insepa-
rable from true genius: he was therefore in-
duced to smile at that in his son-in-law which
he would have condemned in another.
For a short time after the marriage of
Agnes, the young couple continued to re-
side in the rectory, in order to enable Mr.
Lewis to finish a set of sketches he was taking
from the surrounding scenery. This period
was the holiday of Agnes's life: she accom-
panied her beloved husband on his various


little expeditions for distant views; she ex-
plored with him the wild dale, and traced
the meandering rivulet, climbed the towering
mountain, and gazed on the beauteous vale
below, while with a painter's eye and poet's
tongue, he led her from one object of interest
to another, expatiating on their beauties,
explaining their use in the great scale of
creation, and, finally, glorifying the Al-
mighty hand, so eminently visible in scenes
like these. From the humble rill that trickled
down the beetling rock, to the proud lake
that stretched its ample mirror through the
broadest valley; from the grassy hillock to
the lofty mountain, his comprehensive glance
pervaded whatever was beautiful and grand;
and felt in all,
"These are thy glorious works, Parent of good,
Almighty I thine this universal frame,
Thus wondrous fair -- "
The native refinement and energy of his
young and pliant wife soon enabled her to
partake with no common fervour the elegant
and sublime enthusiasm which affected his
mind; but yet she was neither so delighted


by the raptures thus awakened, nor so daz-
zled by the brilliance of powers thus dis-
played, as not to be conscious that the dif-
ferent hours, and more expensive habits of
her husband, rendered her residence at her
father's inconvenient and improper; and,
painful as it was to leave a home so dear, she
by no means sought to protract her stay
beyond the appointed time; though she left
it with a degree of solicitude for future life,
which until this time had never clouded her
humble views, or troubled her contented


In truth, he was a strange and wayward wight,
Fond of each gentle and each dreadful scene.

Mr. Lewis was the only surviving son of
a gentleman, who had nearly expended a
fine fortune in mechanical pursuits, which
he had not the steadiness to follow so as to

bring any single object to perfection, though
he evinced powers sufficient to have fully
effected that purpose. His son had received
the education suitable for a liberal profee-
sion, but a direction of mind too desultory for
any, until his seventeenth year, when he pro-
fessed himself determined on embracing that
of a painter;-a desire perfectly consonant
to the wishes of his father, who obtained for
him every aid his profession required; but at
the same time, by instilling the belief that
on his genius alone he must depend for fu-
ture fame and fortune, defeated in a great
measure the benefits he bestowed in pro-
viding his talents the means of cultivation;
since his son was thereby encouraged to neg-
lect that application necessary in every pro-
fession, and taught to rest on fortuitous
means for producing that which is the re-
ward of well-exerted efforts and unwearied
application of appropriate talents. The fa-
ther died very soon after the son's choice of
a profession was settled, leaving his affairs
in a state of so much derangement, that his
widow, who had always been a most affee-

tionate wife and tender mother, was literally
harassed to death with settling them. She
had, however, the satisfaction of paying all
his debts, reducing his scattered property to
a tangible shape, and leaving her son in actual
possession of about two thousand pounds,
with which she hoped he would be enabled to
set out advantageously in life; being assured
by all who knew him, that he was a young
man of the most promising talents, and very
happy in the persuasion that he had an ex-
cellent disposition, and was not subject to
any vicious propensity whatever.
Young Lewis sincerely loved and lamented
both his parents; but he neither took warning
from the errors into which one had fallen,
from following blindly a pursuit praisewor-
thy in itself, but ruinous to him from his
mismanagement and mutability, nor followed
the advice and example of the other, by esti-
mating his own right of expenditure and
powers of improvement. Rash, impetuous,
and enthusiastic-yet generous, affectionate,
and ingenuous-he was perpetually led into
the commission of follies which he repented


and despised, but whose recurrence he adopt-
ed no stable means of preventing. Attri.
buting his faults to weakness immediately
connected with that superiority in himself,
of which he felt too proud to examine mi-
nutely its claims to his partiality, or even
his right to the distinction thus arrogated;
and, as it served as an apology for idleness
at some times, extravagance at others, and
eccentricity in all,-as it had been ceded to
him by his father, allowed him by his com-
panions, and was the attribute most dear to
him in others,-he indulged himself in be-
lieving that he was influenced in all he did
by possessing genius.
This supposititious power did not, however,
prevent the young man from knowing that it
was by common application and regular study
he had become master of all that which was
indeed estimable in his attainments; and so
long as the period lasted in which he placed
himself under the direction of others his pro-
gress was striking; for his application was
truly that of vigorous intellect, and a noble
contempt of surrounding difficulties: but

when to the cares of his profession were add-
ed those of his worldly affairs, and the possi-
bility of turning his knowledge to profit, he
manifested a carelessness amounting to folly,
and an ignorance at which a schoolboy might
blush; and, from his scorn of trifles and
neglect of petty cares, was continually sub-
ject to serious inconveniences, and, in time,
to alarming calamities.
At the time of his marriage, Mr. Lewis
was about four-and-twenty, and considering
his youth, was in possession of a considerable
degree of public favour: but as he had em-
braced landscape-painting (a branch of the
art slow in the fame it bestows, and by no
means lucrative until that fame is established),
it was necessary to husband his little patri-
mony with prudence, unless he increased it
by the ordinary method-that of teaching:
but there was, according to his apprehension,
a degradation in this mode of employing his
abilities, unworthy of him as a man of genius;
he therefore applied himself exclusively to
painting; and, professing himself devoted to
his art, conceived with all the ardour natural


to his years and character, that success must
ultimately crown his labours, more especially
as he had made considerable progress in his
father's studies, possessed a fine taste for
poetry, and had spent much of his time in
the composition of an epic poem, from which
he promised himself the highest honours.
But, alas between the pen and the pencil,
each applied to by turns, but neither with
effect, month after month glided on, and Ag-
nes never perceived that the labours of her
husband actually produced any money. For
some time she forbore to make any remarks,
or express any wishes on the subject, since
all her modest wants were more liberally sup-
plied than she desired; but as she found that
all their expenditure arose from a principal
which was, by the confession of her husband,
fast waning to a close, she became extremely
anxious to see those talents, on which she
had so often meditated with delight, pro-
duce something like the harvest so long pro-
mised, especially as she was become the mo-
ther of a boy, whom his father beheld with
great delight and affection, and whom, from


his partiality to the painter of that name, he
christened Ludovico Caracci.
They now removed from the northern
counties, where they had hitherto resided, to
Manchester, as a place of great importance
for its wealth, and where the talents of a re-
spectable artist were likely to meet with that
encouragement not to be expected in a more
secluded situation. Mr. Lewis regarded his
long residence among the mountains as a
period of study in Nature's best academy,
and considered this the outset of his profes-
sional career. He had obtained many valu-
able introductions to various wealthy inhabi-
tants, and his hopes were so sanguine, that
even the consciousness that he had not more
than fifty pounds in the world left to pro-
vide for daily increasing expenditure, failed
to affect his spirits, or cast a cloud on his
He was well received at Manchester by
those to whom he looked as future patrons;
the specimens of his talents exhibited in his
rooms were much admired; some were
bought, others ordered; and Agnes partook


the happiness she had hoped for, though she
lamented the expense incurred from residing
in a place where the means of living were so
much more difficult than she had ever known
them; she, however, applied herself with
double diligence to the management of their
household concerns, and endeavoured to sup-
ply by frugality the difference in their ex-
But now was the time of trial: hitherto
Mr. Lewis had followed the bent of his incli-
nation, as it directed his studies, or made
those studies his amusement: he was now
called upon (as every man is, more or less)
to obey the will of others, and submit to
certain privations, for certain rewards. But
the desultory life he had so long led, his habit
of placing Genius at the helm of his thoughts,
and indulging in the belief of its all-control-
ling power, without examining how far ca-
price, idleness, and folly, assumed its name,
either in his own mind or that of others, pre.
cluded him from every solid advantage offer-
ed to him. Pursuing the dictates of this sup-
posititious impulse, he scorned every other


the pictures ordered were frequently never
touched, or if painted, were not according to
the wishes of their owners; they never were
finished to any given time; and it frequently
happened that a picture, on which all his
hopes of subsistence depended, was abandoned
entirely, whilst he composed couplets intend-
ed to garnish the corner of a newspaper,
wasted his time in the perusal of a new novel,
or, with more apparent wisdom, but to equal
loss, pursued some mechanical speculation
or learned hypothesis. If any person, who
either felt for him that friendship his man-
ners seldom failed to inspire, or was really
interested in the speedy conclusion of the
work then on his easel, presumed to remon-
strate with him on this unfortunate misap-
plication of his time, he never failed to in-
sist upon the utter impossibility of bind-
ing minds of a superior class to common
rules:" gave a thousand instances in which
men of genius had acted in the same eccen-
tric manner; declared that the moment of
inspiration must be employed, but cannot be


preued into the service of art; and that the
independence of his mind should never yield
to the shackles which the restraints of pru-
dence threw over souls of a more vulgar
mould and meaner destination.
The total negligence of the wishes of his
patrons was particularly disgusting to the
wealthy merchants and manufacturers of
Manchester, who, used to regularity in all
their proceedings, and seldom educated in a
manner that could make them comprehend
the nature of that mental labour which is, in
fact, the life of the art, viewed his errors with
too much austerity, and aggravated the
fault, which appeared the greater, because
in opposition to their own mode of action.
They condemned him, not more than he de-
spised them. After three years' residence
he left Manchester, with a determination ne-
ver more to reside in a manufacturing town,
and set out for York, taking with him a wife,
and three little children, who left a place
with regret where they had experienced much
personal kindness, and where Agnes had seen


that, with common prudence, it was very
possible not only to live in comfort, but to
secure an ample independence.
A very short time served to convince Mrs.
Lewis, that if the evils of narrow-minded
tradesmen were severely felt in their late re-
sidence, the narrow purses of gentry, living
for the most part on stated incomes, were
likely to be more severely felt at the present;
but she had some consolation from the cheap-
ness of the place, and from perceiving the
kind consideration with which her husband
was treated by people of real superiority.
Lewis, for his part, was delighted: he found
himself amongst kindred souls, and felt as if
he was now, for the first time, brought into
that world which he was formed to enjoy and
to embellish; everywhere courted, invited,
and admired, his presence seemed necessary
to enliven every party, and to give zest to
every enjoyment; for, as he was known to
be a man of family, as well as a man of ge-
nius, every house in York was open to re-
ceive him; and literary acquaintance, lively
friends, and admiring amateurs, surrounded

him on every side, while agreeable invitations
poured in from every quarter.
But in this round of engagements all em-
ployment was suspended, and for a time even
painting was forgotten; unfortunately, the
interesting antiquities, the fine cathedral, and
many local advantages of York, awoke ad-
miration, which affected him rather as a Poet
than a Painter, and every solitary ramble
and unengaged hour were given to the com-
position of poetry. By degrees this passion
gained still more ground, and, with the true
spirit of a poet, he withdrew from all com-
pany, abandoned every other pursuit, and,
wrapt in the sublime contemplation of the
past, became completely absorbed in this
single subject: so that at the time when the
city was filling with company, who might
have been really beneficial to him, and to
whom it was the intention of his new friends
to introduce him, he was so distracted with
the thoughts of being torn from his loved
employment, that he hastily fled from the
city, took refuge in a distant farm-house,
and determined to live in the closest retire-


ment till he had accomplished his task, which
was writing an Epic Poem, entitled "Con-
stantine the Great."
During the time when he had been visit-
ing in York, though admired and caressed
by all, his wife and infants had lived in a so-
litary lodging, where, with melancholy fore-
bodings, she had endeavoured to keep up
her spirits in the hope of better times, and
by every method of the most self-denying
economy, to delay the approach of want. As,
however, it was impossible to avoid running
in debt for mere necessaries, her anxiety be-
came more distressing; and her creditors were
so urgent for payment, when her husband
thus incautiously forsook her, leaving her a
message to follow him, without reflecting on
the necessity of settling their affairs, that she
was obliged to compromise in the best man-
ner she was able, by disposing of all the little
furniture they had brought with them, and
the greatest part of her husband's books.
This circumstance was quickly spread; their
credit was universally blasted; and when the
poem was finished, and the author presented


it, under the idea of a liberal subscription
being entered upon for it, which would doubt-
less have been the case three months before,
he found from the bookseller that he was uni-
versally regarded in York as an idle, dis-
sipated man, who ran into debt he had no
means of discharging, and exposed his wife
and innocent children to bear the brunt of
misfortune and the sufferings of poverty.
Stung more with the severity of this sen-
tence than the truth it contained, since he con-
ceived that the very people who pronounced
it were those who, on his arrival, had made
him idle and dissipated, and now, when by
incessant application he had redeemed his
character, abandoned him without mercy, he
hastily repaired to his unhappy wife, declar-
ing that he would instantly fly to the metro-
polis, where alone he could publish his poem,
and where genius never failed to meet with
patrons whose wealth and liberality ensured
the success due to superior talent.
This scheme was found impracticable: the
utmost limits of their power only enabled
them to proceed to Leeds, where they were


obliged to take a poor lodging; which, in the
course of a week, was exchanged for one still
poorer, and where the infant, poor Agnes,
now nursed at her breast (affected by the
suppressed but bitter woes of its unhappy
mother), soon breathed its last-the victim
of sorrow and imprudence.
Over the corpse of his youngest darling the
father shed many a heartfelt tear; but the
mother's sacrifice, though lamented, was more
easily resigned. As soon as she was some-
what recovered from the shock, she earnestly
looked around for some employment which
should enable her to assist in providing for
her family; and having lodged in the house
of a glover during her residence in York,
and being always of an observant turn, and
remarkably quick with her needle, she deter-
mined on making gloves for sale; and had
providing herself with the means of carrying
this purpose into effect, when her husband,
on perceiving her intention, reprobated it in
the severest manner, as a means of injuring
him in his profession, and precluding him from
appearing in the light of a gentleman.


But our children want bread, my dear
Lewis !" This appeal overwhelmed the wretch-
ed man with so severe an agony, that Agnes
resolved to comply, apparently at least, with
his wishes. She soothed his sorrows, praised
his poem, predicted its success, and finally
persuaded him to resume his habits of sketch-
ing, and preparing a few pictures, though she
almost dreaded their finishing, knowing that
the expense of providing frames was utterly
out of her power. During the hours he was
in the house, she applied herself to house-
hold concerns, and to instructing her two
little boys; but the moment he went out, she
flew to the business she had adopted; and
by dint of incessant labour, and that quick-
ness which practice supplies, she was enabled
to find food, though very coarse food, for
herself and children,-ever making an excuse
to their father, on his return, for having
dined without him, and providing something
more palatable for him, which she was under
the necessity of procuring from the sale of
her clothes, or entreating the butcher to trust
her. Lewis returned to the study of Nature


with increasing avidity; became again a
painter; and so long as no one troubled him
with claims for money he could not pro-
duce, was perfectly easy how his boys were
fed or clothed; their smiles were delightful
to him, and every display of talent they
evinced transported him: but of their real
comforts, or their future destination, he either
thought not at all, or when, by some pressing
circumstances, forced to think, he shrunk
from with a weakness that enervated, or self-
reproach that overwhelmed him.
By degrees, the artist emerged from the
obscurity that attended his first appearance
at Leeds; and a bookseller having permitted
his pictures to be hung in his shop, was so
fortunate as to dispose of two of them, This
circumstance renovated the spirits of Lewis:
he took better lodgings immediately; re-
plenished his wardrobe; increased his stock
of materials; sent his eldest son to school;
and considerably extended his credit with
various new tradesmen ;-but he neglected
to pay those who had trusted him, and
whom he thus made his enemies, to the sin-


cere grief and mortification of his wife, whose
utmost endeavours could not enable her to
repay them; for, as he was now much at
home, it was impossible for her to carry on
her employment with effect, especially as she
was again likely to increase her family, and
her second son was a very delicate boy, and
occupied much of her attention. Many a
heart-breaking sigh did she breathe over
him, under the distressing idea that the
hardships to which he had been exposed, in
consequence of their poverty, had preyed
upon his constitution; for notwithstanding
all that may be said, and with truth, re-
specting the healthiness of poor people's
children, yet it will not be found that scanty
meals and long-protracted fasts produce firm
flesh and ruddy looks, Agnes well remem-
bered that her boys at Manchester were
blessed with both, and her heart sickened at
the present contrast; but she endeavoured
in all her sorrows to look up to her heavenly
Father for consolation and strength, and, as
far as it was possible, to lead her poor babes
to the same celestial fountain ;-and many a


time did the little boys, kneeling on each
side of their prostrate mother, with clasped
hands and devout looks, listen to her fervent
prayers for their welfare and that of her be-
loved partner, who at some times fervently
partook of their devotions, but never with-
out evidently suffering so much, that the
tender heart of his wife almost shrunk from
witnessing emotions, which she perceived
were indications of sensibility, unaccompanied
by resolution, and unattended by reform.
From time to time he suffered every oppor-
tunity for really benefiting himself and fa-
mily to escape, either from a carelessness
which lost the hour for securing employ-
ment, a haughtiness which rejected it, or,
what was prejudicial in the highest degree, a
versatility in the application of his talents,
which, while it evinced his real superiority,
prevented every effect that might have been
expected. After three years' residence in a
rich, populous, and hospitable town, Agnes
found herself again with a babe at her breast,
her second son in his coffin, and her eldest,
pale, emaciated, and weeping by her side,


without money to procure support for the
one, or interment for the other-surrounded
by creditors she could not satisfy, and far
distant from all their natural connexions, -
yet forced to urge the instant departure of
her dejected husband, lest every pang she
felt should be aggravated by seeing him
dragged to a long-threatened prison.


But why should I his childish feats display ?
Concourse, and noise, and toil, he ever fled,
Nor cared to mingle in the clamorous fray
Of squabbling imps --

Ludovico was at this period nearly eight
years old; he was tall of his age, but ex-
tremely slender; his face was very pale, but
his black eyes were full of intelligence; and
the brown hair which hung in clustering


curls on his forehead, gave him, notwith-
standing his wan looks and shabby clothes,
the air of a child who had seen better days-
especially as his face and the collar of his
shirt were always clean; and, from being
used to ramble much with his father, he had
acquired grace and agility in his gait, and
the air of a gentleman in his whole deport-
His temper, when a mere child, had been
impetuous, and he inherited from his father a
quickness of conception that frequently led
him to suspect and resent imagined injury;
but at the same time he was so warmly at-
tached to all around him, so open to convic-
tion, and so truly sorry for having given
offence to any human being, so anxious to
make reparation for error, and so grateful
for its acceptance, that, although he often
did wrong, he never continued in disgrace.
As his mother well knew that a life spent in
erring and atoning is inconsistent and use-
less, it was her particular object to control
this error in early life, that it might never
impede his happiness. or obstruct his pro-


gress in virtue, beyond the days of infancy;
and so wisely had she applied her tender cares
to this purpose, that at the period we speak
of, a child more amiable, docile, and tractable,
could not be found; although his vivacity
was still great, and his powers of mind, either
as evinced by fortitude or perseverance, very
extraordinary, except when bowed down, as
at present, by severe affliction: for severe
indeed was the stroke which separated him
from a brother, whom he not only loved as
such with the tenderest affection, but who
had been the only companion he had ever
known. The poverty which had hung over
him having shut him from the houses of the
rich, and the refinement naturally imbibed
from parents like his, together with the
cares of his mother, having rendered it im-
possible for him to associate with children of
a lower class. From these, during the short
period he was at school, he had been accus-
tomed to receive much insult, on account of
the difficult pronunciation of his name, which
had therefore only tended to render him still
fonder of a brother who was similarly situ-


ated, and who was likewise so meek-tem-
pered, and so fond of him, that, in all their
childish sports and various competitions,
there was never found a disposition to
quarrel with each other; for Ludovico was
not more inclined to take the lead, than
Raphael to give it to him.
Such was the boy, who, after lamenting
many hours as one that refused to be com-
forted," over the dead body of his beloved
brother, witnessed the still acuter pang
which his mother felt, when, emptying her
little purse of the few hard-earned shillings
which remained, she put them into the hands
of his father, and besought him to take ad-
vantage of the night, and hasten out of the
country, ere the law should seize him. The
bitter sorrow visible in his countenance, as he
glanced his eye over the wretched apartment
he was quitting, arrested that of Ludovico;
he watched its pathetic expression as pur-
suing each object of love and interest; it re-
garded first the coffin of the departed child-
then the cradle of the sleeping babe-his own
swollen face and weeping eyes-and lastly,


the wasted form and pallid countenance of his
mother, on which it rested with an expres-
sion of sorrow that seemed to concentrate all
human misery.
The boy flew into his father's arms; he
sobbed convulsively upon his bosom; he felt
as if his very heart was breaking. My
poor fellow !" said Lewis, struggling with
himself, "my dear boy! do not give way to
this sorrow; remember, it is your duty to
exert yourself for your mother's sake; I
leave her to your care, Ludovico; she has
now no other comforter; remember that, my
dear, my only son." The father pressed him
to his heart and fled.
"We have a Comforter above," said his
mother, approaching the bewildered and
overpowered boy: "and to that Comforter
we must both look, my dear; but you know
we can only have a right to do so by con-
trolling our immoderate grief. It is natural
that you should mourn for Raphael, that
you should lament parting with your father
at such a time of affliction, for our blessed
Lord himself wept at the tomb of Lazarus;


but you know, Ludovico, he did not indulge
in affliction, he did not increase the sorrows in
which he sympathised by his own excess,"
Ludovico promised to subdue his grief,
and he sought divine assistance; then turn-
ing to his mother, he said, Oh, mother!
if I could indeed help you, I should be happy
even now-I feel I should."
"You will help and comfort me most at
present, by endeavouring to sleep, my child.
My fears for your health outweigh every
Ludovico kissed her and crept to his solit-
ary bed, which, though the night was far
advanced, he had feared to visit, from a con-
sciousness that it would renew his sorrow;
but his recent agitation had spent itself, and
a ray of hope that he was yet capable of
assisting and comforting his mother solaced
his mind; and in a long and ardent prayer,
he poured out his heart to Him that "de-
spiseth not the day of small things;" after
which he sunk into a sound and refreshing
slumber, and which, though not a long one,
renewed his strength. Hearing uncommon


noises in the streets, he recollected that it
was a great fair; and concluded that, though
early, it was better to rise, and collect the
various thoughts which he well remembered
had occupied his mind the morning before.
On entering the sitting-room, he perceived
his poor mother just as he had left her; and
though she had now his little sister in her
arms, yet it was plain, from the appearance
of her work-table, that she had been sitting
up all night making gloves, and he doubted
not it was with the intention of disposing of
them in the fair. After an affectionate salu-
tation to her and the babe, and one tender
look towards the melancholy corner which
contained the loved remains of his brother,
he busied himself with looking up several
articles that were scattered round the room,
but with an air of such quietness, that his
mother fancied he was attaching some little
mystery to his employment; and rejoicing
that he was going to adopt any means of dis-
sipating his distress, she appeared not to re-
gard him, but fixed her eyes intently on
her nursling; whilst Ludovico, having col-

elected various necessaries for drawing, which
had naturally become his chief employment,
and had always been his favourite amuse-
ment, sat himself down on the floor opposite
to her.
One party absorbed in deep and sorrowful
reflections, the other in great but not hope-
less solicitude-both were silent for a con-
siderable time: at length Mrs. Lewis said,
" Come, child, you have been up nearly two
hours; get your breakfast."
"Presently, mother, I have nearly finish-
ed my picture, but cannot move till I have
done it."
In about ten minutes Ludovico arose, and
presented to his mother a coarse but not ill-
conceived picture of herself and the babe,
which she approved of very much, though
she pointed out some improvements, which
he readily adopted; then despatching his
breakfast in great haste, but not till he had
prevailed on his mother to take hers also, he
resumed his employment. As his celerity
increased by practice, in the middle of the
day he found that he had made six pictures


of his mother, upon as many half-sheets of
paper; and he now began to mount them
upon press paper, which he begged from the
master of the lodgings, who was a clothier,
and used it in the pressing of his cloth; hav-
ing don& this, he drew lines round them,
which he filled with Indian ink, and thus
finished them in a tidy manner; but all this
was accompanied with the same air of secrecy
with which it was begun; and scarcely could
the afflicted mother refuse a smile at the im-
portant and mysterious air assumed by her
industrious boy, whom she had always en-
couraged in pursuing whatever he engaged
in with perseverance and ardour, as the never-
failing means of ultimate success.
In the course of the afternoon, the person
whom she had engaged to take her little par-
cel of gloves came for them; and as she was
not quite prepared, Ludovico stepped out
unperceived while she detained him. After
this business was over, she was somewhat
surprised that he did not return; but con-
cluding that he was trying to get more press-
paper from the master of the house, was not

sorry for an absence that would be beneficial
to him; but when evening came, and upon
inquiry she found that he had not been be-
low, and was certainly out of the house, she
became extremely uneasy, and felt more bit-
terly than ever the full extent of her wretched
situation-thus trebly bereft of her comforts.
During all the distress which Mrs. Lewis
had experienced since she left the happy,
though humble roof of her father, she had
never yet acquainted her parents with more
of her real situation than was absolutely ne-
cessary, feeling, that to make them farther
informed of her unhappiness would be only
increasing their burthen without lightening
her own; though she was well aware that
the utmost relief they could render her would
be speedily accorded. It now struck her
that her poor boy, deprived of the company
of his brother, would be placed to the great-
est advantage under the roof of his grand-
father, who, she doubted not, would afford
him the protection he so much wanted at this
time; and she was debating in her own mind
on the necessity of the step, and struggling


to overcome the dread she felt of parting
with a child so inexpressibly dear, when the
door was suddenly opened by Ludovico, who,
with an air of wildness in his countenance,
ran to the spot where she sat, fell on his
knees before her, and laying his face on her
lap, burst into tears,-at the same time
seizing her hand, which he devoured with
kisses, he placed in it a crown piece, and two
"My child my dear boy who gave you
this money!"
Oh, mother! mother I have sold them
all,-all my pictures. At first I was sadly
ashamed, when I went out and stood in the
market-place: but as people came to me and
asked me what I would take for them, I said
a shilling a-piece; so two women came and
bought each one; and then a man, who
sold toys, came and put this crown in my
hand and took the other four away with
him, and told me to paint a dozen more
before next Tuesday, and he would buy them
all-and-and-is not this good news,
mother r'


"Indeed, my love, it is: but why do you
cry, Ludovico r,
Oh, mother, I cannot help it; yesterday
I was so very wrectched, because poor Ra-
phael was dead; and father and you looked
so unhappy, I could not help wishing it
would please God to take me too, and I cried
for exceeding great sorrow: but now I feel
as if I had much rather live and be a comfort
to you: and since I have sold my little pic-
tures, it has made me so happy, I feel my
heart swelling quite full, very full of joy."
Again the boy wept, and his mother,
straining him to her fond heart, which rose
to Heaven in silent gratiude for such a gift,
wept also.
After a long pause, Ludovico, recovering
serenity, cheerfully said, Who knows, dear
mother, but I have a genius, and may one
day be a great man? I am sure if I have, I
shall always thank God for giving it to me,
for your sake and the baby's, and poor fa-
ther's sake too. Oh, I wish that Raphael
had lived, if it had only been till to-day,
that he might have felt as I do just now."


Agnes was loth to repress the generous
hopes and ennobling enthusiasm which, at
this moment, so evidently enlivened the heart
of her amiable child; but she felt it her
duty to impress, in this hour. of awakened
feeling-this early outset in the life of a
child, forced by circumstances to premature
reflection and exertion, the necessity of justly
estimating his own powers, and the nature
of the path he seemed appointed to tread.
Taking both his hands in hers as he still knelt
at her feet, with a look of great tenderness,
but deep solemnity, she said, My dear
child, God has given to you and to all men
talents; by the prudent and persevering,
who not only use but improve them, every
thing really desirable may always be attain-
ed; but without industry, and the proper
application of that industry, no natural gift
can possibly avail them. Therefore, though
it is only just and right that you should
thank God for enabling you to be of use to
your parents, and praise Him, who is in-
deed the giver of every good and perfect
gift; seeking with humility and diligence for


his blessings on your endeavours, and his
direction in all your pursuits; yet remem-
ber, it is foolish and presumptuous to expect
success, even in a good cause, otherwise than
as He has appointed : and it is His will that
we attain all real advantages, both for this
world and that which is to come, by ear-
nestly endeavouring to obtain them by vigi-
But then, what does my father mean by
saying so often that Genius conquers all
things: and telling me about so many great
men who had genius ?"
"The great men he speaks of, having a
decided preference for some particular art or
science, pursued with unceasing diligence
every means which was likely to contribute
to their attainment; this preference is called
taste, and united with this perseverance, it
produced that superiority which became ye-
nius. Do you understand me, my dear ?"
Perfectly, mother; for I remember when
Raphael was making a kite, he could not do
it at all; and as father used to say he was
a good child, but had no genius, I thought


it was of no use to leave off drawing to teach
him: but he .wanted a kite; and he tried,
and tried, till at last he made this pretty one,
which I will keep for his sake: and then
father said, 'Well, I declare the boy has
really a genius for kite-making.' I suppose,
in general, people call a taste, or just having
a liking for things, having a genius; but if
they think that will do, they are sadly mis-
taken; I know that by myself. Why, mo-
ther, do you know I have been drawing your
face and the baby's with pencil only, for
many weeks, but I would not waste paint on
it till I was quite sure of doing good; because
many a time, when I have seen father waste
things, you have looked so sad, and given
such deep sighs when nobody heard you but
"Yes, my child, our Father who is in
Heaven heard them; and in teaching you to
feel for your mother, proved that the sorrow-
ful sighing of an humble heart ascended not
to his mercy-seat in vain let this be ever
your comfort, my child; and in every exer-
tion you make for yourself, remember that

although success may not crown your endea-
vours, though ever so well exerted (which is
sometimes, though not frequently, the case),
that you have an unfailing friend in heaven,
who can render your sufferings the means of
blessedness, and who never fails to help those
who put their trust in Him."
This interesting conversation received a
dreadful interruption by the mistress of the
lodging-house, who entered to say, she had
just heard that Mr. Lewis was arrested, and
at that moment lodged in the jail at the suit
of his tailor; and she added, that as there
was now no likelihood that they would be
able to pay for their lodgings, she was will-
ing to forgive them the little which was due
in arrears, provided they would bury the
little boy, and leave the place to-morrow
This dreadful event, long forseen by Mrs.
Lewis, yet not less deplored on that account,
for a moment completely overcame her, and
she fell back in her chair almost fainting;
while Ludovico inquired, with eager and


trembling haste, where the wicked men had
caught his poor father.
Wicked indeed, there be no wickedness
in people seeking their own, as I know of.-
Why, your father did just as your people of
genus always do; instead of running away
out of the county as he should, knowing as
how there was a writ out against him-what
does he do? but when he'd got a few miles
out a town, an' his flutter was gone off as it
were, but down he sits afore an old oak
tree, and begins to take it down in one of his
books; so the foaks az corned to the fair
seed him, and they telled those az telled the
baileys, who set off and tok him without
trouble, only that he begged and prayed of
all things-"
"For what did he beg r, cried the wife,
starting forward in extreme distress.
He begged of all things they would let
him finish his sketch of the old oak, and
shared them it was worth twenty guineas;
but I warrant nobody else will say that but
some genus like his self, -for my part, I be


sorry for you, very sorry: God forbid my
Nanny should ever marry such as he; but
we must take care of ourselves; not but if
little Lu-Lu-what's his name-ever
comes for press-paper, or aught else, to our
house, he be's heartily welcome; for I will
say, a nicer, civiller, sort of a body than
you never darkened my doors; and as to th'
master, he's a nice man, and quite a better-
more sort of a genteel person; but, dear
heart, with all his abilitiess he'll niver get
bread, being as how he sticks to nothing as
it were."
To the great relief of Mrs. Lewis, the
good woman, who lamented and scolded in
the same breath, now withdrew; and, after
a long and painful silence, at length Ludo-
vico broke it by saying, "Mother, Mrs.
Holmes said the men were not wicked who
took my dear father; but surely they were
When he spoke of them yesterday, he call-
ed them cruel creditors, and hard-hearted
wretches, you know."
Your father was then in a state of severe
affliction, and, in his apprehension of that


misfortune which has actually happened, he
spoke with more asperity than was justifiable,
which, you know, we all do when we are
either very angry or very sorry, and for
which we afterwards see ourselves to blame."
"Then it is not wicked, to put people in
prison !"
"No, my dear, not wicked, but certainly
unkind, and in some cases cruel; but I do
not say Mr. Bradley is cruel, though I feel
extremely distressed at his conduct; he has
waited a long time for his money, has known
that your father has had the power of paying
him, but neglected to do it,-and these
things have vexed him."
Then he is not a bad man!"
"No, my dear, he is a good man; regular
in his own payments, desirous of maintaining
his family, and very charitable to the poor;
but, not being possessed of much knowledge,
he is not aware of the difficulties which are
always found to attend men in your father's
I will never run into debt," said the boy
thoughtfully; especially with ignorant peo-


pie: -it breaks my heart to think my father
should sleep by himself in a prison; let us
go to him, dear mother."
Mrs. Lewis, as well as her trembling limbs
would permit her, put on her bonnet and
shawl for that purpose; but on casting a
look towards the coffin, knew not what was
best to do. Ludovico read her thoughts.
Go by yourself, dear mother: I will re-
main here I will not leave the room for
a moment. I am not afraid to stay with
dear Raphael; surely you do not think I
am, believing, as I do, that he has gone to
Heaven, and that the eye of God is now
looking down on us both."
Thou art my manna in the wilderness,'"
said the mother, clasping him a moment
to her breast, and then flying, as well as she
was able, to the wretched abode of her more
wretched partner, whom she found so com-
pletely overpowered by the severity of those
reflections which had crowded upon him
since his entrance into this melancholy home,
as to be actually ill;-and dreadfully divided
as her heart was between two objects so dear


to her, she yet felt it was impossible to for-
sake her husband; and the night was passed
by Ludovico alone in the chamber of death,
rendered more melancholy by the mournful
certainty that nothing less than a strong ne-
cessity for remaining with his afflicted father,
whose acute distress he had too often wit-
nessed, would have kept his mother from
returning to him.
When Ludovico began to think on his
mother, and to recollect the many excellent
precepts with which she had stored Ais
mind, and that of the dear child who was
still his silent companion, he was led to con-
sider her conduct also. My mother does
not sit down and only cry over misfortunes;
no, she does all she can to get out of them,
and I must do my best too. Suppose I
write a letter to beg this person will set my
poor father at liberty; or had I not better
take my best clothes back to him?-it will
be something towards the debt: and then,
next week I shall have done the pictures, and
if I have a crown for four, how much shall I
get for a dozen !"


As Ludovico had only learned a very little
of accounts from his mother, this sum, though
small, was a lesson to him: in settling that,
he was led to propose other questions of the
same kind, which amused his mind, and in
the midst of his calculations he fell asleep
(having had very little the preceding night),
nor awoke till the rays of the sun fell warm
upon his face, when he arose, and recollect-
ing his resolutions, prepared all his little
power for a successful attack upon the feelings
of his father's creditor; and finding the
people of the house were up, he requested
their attention to the room he left, and with
his own and poor Raphael's clothes bundled
up, was proceeding to the tailor's house
with his offering, when that person himself
entered the door, and by his sudden appear-
ance disconcerted every word of the pathetic
appeal poor Ludovico had intended to have
Where's your mother, child!"
My mother took the babe in her arms,
about ten o'clock last night, and went to the
prison to my father."


Bless my soul, is that a coffin!"
"Yes, sir; my poor brother died the day be-
fore yesterday and we must bury him to-day."
Sad work, this, child! What are you
going to do with that bundle? Pawn it,
I suppose, eh child?"
It is my best clothes, and poor Raphael's;
I was bringing them to you; I hope, sir,
- I beg sir, you will sell them, and let the
money help to take my father out of prison."
"And who told you to do this?"
"Nobody told me; but I know my mother
will not be angry, for she is always unhappy
about debts; and now she is quite, quite
wretched because father is in the jail."
"Ay, ay, I see what you want, but I
shan't let him out; because for why ? I know
it '11 do him good to stay in a bit; it '11 teach
him to know what's what; but don't you go
for to think I 'm hard-hearted, for now I '11
tell you what I '11 do-I '11 find your mother
money to bury this poor boy, and you shall
have your clothes to go to the funeral in;
and when that 's over, come to me, and I
shall say something to you."


With these words, the tailor brushed away
a tear from his eyes, threw some money on
the table, and departed, leaving Ludovico
uncertain whether he was most grateful for
present relief, or vexed at the detention of
his father for whom he felt so much affection,
and whose situation appeared to him so
dreadful, that he could not help still consi-
dering it as cruel and unmerited.


"Charity never faileth."
WHEN poor Mrs. Lewis, accompanied by
her son, returned from paying her last duties
to the sweet child who had for so long a
time been the object of her solicitude, she
found the person with whom she had lodged
standing on the outside of her chamber-door,
with the babe she had been obliged to con-
sign to her care, ready to deliver it along


with her clothes, but resolute in denying her
admittance to her lodgings, which she said,
were already disposed of to those who could
pay for them.
Mrs. Lewis was 'utterly unable to contend
the point; she pressed her little girl to her
aching heart, and bent her steps towards her
husband's abode, followed by Ludovico, who
having, in the course of the day, visited his
father, and conveyed to him his materials for
painting, now took up the bundle which con-
tained their united wardrobe, and prepared
to follow; at the same time, mentioning his
engagement with Mr. Bradley, the tailor,
with whom he proposed to leave the clothes
he now wore.
His mother, approving his design, accom-
panied him to the tailor's, who said he was
an honest child, and added, "though but a
little one, I can teach him to cover buttons
soon; and if so be as he will promise to be
good, I will take him into the house; he shall
sleep with my 'prentice, and I will teach him
to work for his living, and feed him as if he
were my own."

Agnes cast a melancholy look at her child;
she dreaded taking him to the receptacle
whither she was condemned to go; yet every
feeling of long-nourished hope sunk at the
idea of tkhu bestowing that child, whose
mind she had nurtured, and whose talents
she was convinced deserved a far different
destination; but when she considered how
contaminating is the touch of impurity, she
could not help wishing to secure him this
humble asylum, from a consciousness that it
was far better than the haunts of that abode
to which she was doomed. Thanking the
honest man for the offer, she turned to Lu-
dovico, who shrinking from the proposal, was
now closely pressing to her side.
"What do you say, my dear, to Mr.
Bradley's offer?"
I am much, very much obliged, but I
would rather go with you, mother !"
"What! to idleness and starvation r" said
the tailor.
"No, sir,.I shall work very hard; I earn-
ed seven shillings yesterday with my own
hands; mother knows I did."


Mrs. Lewis explained this to the astonish-
ed hearer, adding, that, Notwithstanding
his temporary success, she had rather leave
him in good hands, fearful of the injury his
mind might receive from the associates of
the jail."
Look ye," said the tailor, "I 'm not such
a fool as not to see, that a boy with his sort
of laming, and a better trade than mine at
his finger's ends, should not go for to spend
his days at my workboard, neither can I
afford to keep him without working; but I '11
tell you what I '11 do, he shall lodge here,
and so long as he can keep himself by his
little thingumby pictures, he shall; and when
that's done, which I take it'll be very soon,
if he '11 take to my trade, well and good."
This plan relieved the mother's heart, while
it awoke with new force the honest ambition
of her son, who pursued his avocation with
unremitting diligence, constantly spending
the principal part of every day with his pa-
rents, and preparing his little pictures for
sale, in which he soon became so expert, that
the man who had employed him, and who


was a hawker of petty wares round the neigh-
bourhood, declared he was overstocked with
the first pattern, and expressed a wish for
some other; so that Ludovico, from painting
his mother and sister, turned his thoughts to
domestic animals, and after various efforts,
at length produced dogs and cats with equal
success and rapidity: which the vender ob-
serving, abated his price;-a circumstance
which at length incited Ludovico's determi-
nation to conquer the diffidence he had felt,
and offer them for sale on the following
market-day himself.
This scheme fully answered his purpose,
for as he offered his first production in silence,
a report prevailed that he was a "little
foreigner," which was magnified into his being
a Papist, selling pictures of the Virgin and
Child; and as everything marvellous ob-
tains celebrity, poor Ludovico's productions
were not only speedily sold, but many coun-
try-woman gave him an apple out of their
baskets, or a piece of cake from their pockets,
as a mark of sympathy for his supposed
misfortunes in losing his country and friends.


Ludovico had hitherto carried all his gains
immediately to his mother; but he was so
elated by the success of this day, in which
he had taken fifteen shillings, that he con-
ceived the heroic design of rescuing his fa-
ther from captivity, and, on retiring to his
lodgings, he ventured to ask Mr. Bradley
how much money would get his father out
of prison.
"Seventeen pounds is your father's debt
to me, my little fellow."
With a look of great importance, Ludovico
laid all his earnings on the table.
"Well done, my noble boy! your money
doesn't go in gingerbread, that's a plain case.
I cannot, however, think of taking it; but
this I will say, that when your father pays
me one-half of his debt, I will let him out;
in the mean time he lives in cheap lodgings,
and no worse for biting the bridle, in my
mind at least. But I'll tell you what, there
will be a great fair in three weeks at Wake-
field, and if you get a stock of your dogs
and cats, and babies ready, you will sell them
well, my boy, if you send them there."


With diligent delight poor Ludovico now
went to work, resolving to save every penny
he could procure; but his incessant exertions
injured his health, and as his mother would
not hear of his going at a distance to dispose
of his pictures, lie was obliged to sell off his
large stock at very low prices to his old cus-
tomer, the pedlar; who, on his part, declared
that he could not pay for them till he had
sold them. To this arrangement Ludovico
made no objection, so delighted was he with
the largeness of the sum he was about to re-
ceive : but alas! he was now doomed to meet
a severe loss in the faithlessness of his friend,
who having never been in possession of half
the number before, made off with his prize,
and was not heard of in the neighbourhood
Poor Ludovico's spirits completely sank at
this unfortunate failure; he had expended a
considerable part of his money in purchasing
the materials to complete this order; he had
injured his health by the closeness of his ap-
plication, and almost denied himself food, in
his extreme anxiety not to diminish his little


hoard; and to complete his distress, on going
to pour his sorrows into the bosom of that
tender parent who would so truly sympathize
with them, he found her weeping over her
sick babe, who had gradually pined ever
since she had been removed to her present
close and comfortless abode.
At such a time Ludovico could not add to
her distress by revealing his discomfiture;
and, in order to hide his chagrin from her
anxious and penetrating eye, he busied him-
self in mounting two or three of his ill-fated
pictures, as he now thought them, resolving
henceforward never to trust them in any
hands but his own. His father observed, as
he looked at them, that the tears were in his
eyes; and mistaking the cause, he endea-
voured to console him by retouching them,
and praising his exertions. This tenderness
only made poor Ludovico more sensible of
the bitterness of his disappointment, and
fearful that he could not command his feel-
ings much longer, he hastily bade good-b'ye
to his parents, and seizing his pictures and
pencils rushed out of the prison.


In the first alley he entered, poor Ludo-
vico freely indulged the grief he had long
suppressed, and, after staying there a con-
siderable time, pursued his way, with melan-
choly steps, towards his lodgings. In turn-
ing into Briggate, at the corner of a pastry-
cook's shop, he was stopped for a moment
by the passing of a cart, and his eyes were
naturally drawn towards the window: a gen-
tleman, who was a passenger in a stage-coach
then drawn up on the other side of the street
had been despatched by the rest of the party
to this shop, with such a variety of commis-
sions, that he found it difficult how to dispose
of them, and was stuffing papers into
each pocket, when the meagre face of Ludo-
vico caught his eye, at the very moment the
shop-girl presented him with an open paper
of biscuits he was nearly forgetting, and of
which he had been eating whilst the other
parcels were prepared. Ludovico had heard
his mother wish for some finger biscuits to
steep in the milk she gave his sister, and
his eye glanced instinctively towards the


"Give them to that poor hungry boy,"
said the gentleman, directing Ludovico, by
a kind look to receive them.
Naturally diffident, the poor boy blushed,
and hung back; but the gentleman, not less
struck by his modesty than his apparent
desire, called him encouragingly, and put
them into his hand, expecting to see him de-
vour them. He was thanked by a look of
the most lively gratitude he had ever wit-
nessed; but, to his surprise, the boy, folding
up his treasure, darted up the street; in a
few moments he stopped, and turning back
just as the gentleman, warned by the coach-
man, was entering the vehicle, Ludovico
flew towards him, holding the best of his
little pictures in his hand, crying, Pray,
sir-do pray, sir, take it."
The gentleman, willing to buy the thing,
whatever it might be, from a boy who had
already moved his compassion, received it,
saying, "What is the price, my boy!"
when Ludovico with another expressive look
of gratitude, ran away as fast as he was


A person was at this moment handing up
some bundles to the coachman: he had ob-
served the whole transaction, for he knew
Ludovico very well, being one of the persons
sometimes employed by Mr. Bradley, and
remarking the surprise visible in the stranger,
said, That be a curious little chap, sir;
I '11 be bound he's gone to take them sweets
as you geed him to the jail, to his little
sister; it's just like him."
The gentleman's curiosity was strongly ex-
cited, and partly gratified, before the coach
drove off, by the few facts gathered from
this man; and it furnished conversation
amongst the passengers for the rest of the
stage, and particularly interested a lady who
was fond of drawing, and had been visiting
her little girl, who was placed at a boarding-
school in the vicinity of Leeds. This lady
looked often at the picture, and thought it a
surprising effort for such a child, and she
determined on making further inquiries re-
specting him when she visited that neigh-
bourhood again : and the gentleman sent him
half-a-crown by the coachman, which, to the


man's credit, was faithfully delivered the
next day, and helped so much to revive the
drooping spirits of the poor child, that he
once more commenced his task, and finding
his work improve from that degree of me-
chanical excellence which is ever attained by
practice, he again entertained hopes of ulti-
mate success.
The greatest trouble Ludovico experienced
now arose from his father, who, disliking to
see him employed in what he called useless
and tasteless daubs, inimical to that freedom
which he deemed necessary for the expansion
of Genius, was perpetually giving him other
employment, and setting him to do different
things. Although his mother perceived,
from his bringing no more money, that his
little trade had ceased to be profitable, yet
she approved the perseverance which so evi-
dently tended to his improvement in one
branch of the art, and proposed that he
should carry on his work in the tailor's gar-
ret, only making it a point to visit them every
day. In depriving herself of the pleasure
of her child's society, this truly affectionate


mother lost the only one she enjoyed; but
she saved him from much suffering as well
as facilitated his views. The confinement of
her husband being a grievance to which, of
all others, he had the greatest aversion, from
being in the habit of exploring the country,
and feasting on its beauteous scenes, which
were to his enlightened mind and vivid ima-
gination, not only a luxuriant repast, but a
consoling balm; the dreadful contrast of a
close prison affected his spirits, injured his
health, and greatly altered his temper, so
that he was alternately sorrowful or petulant;
.either sinking into a dejection so distressing
as to awaken the keenest sympathy, or be-
traying manners so fretful, peevish, and irri-
table, that it was impossible for either his
wife or son to please him. Such will ever be
the effects of trouble on a mind which is not
under the guidance of reason, or subject to
the mild but all-restraining influence of reli-
gion, whatever may be its natural powers, or
its acquired knowledge.
Mrs. Lewis was not only desirous of saving
her poor boy from the pain of sharing his


father's grief; or enduring his ill-humour; she
wished, as far as it was possible, to prevent
him from imbibing those sentiments he was
in the habit of uttering, respecting the super-
excellence of possessing Genius, and the con-
tempt he often expressed for the common
occupations and the common endowments of
those around him. It had been the great
business of her life to guard her son from
imbibing that pride of talent, that self-suffi-
ciency and contempt of common cares, which
had been the ruin of her husband; and al-
though his situation at this very moment
seemed to offer an antidote to his doctrine, 6
yet in so young a child, and one who ad-
mired his father the more, as his unfolding
mind and increasing taste for his art ex-
panded, and as his pity and compassion were
excited towards him, she feared these senti-
ments might lay the seeds for future errors,
unless she opposed their growth by exposing
the folly of the father, in every stage of his
mismanagement, to the son. This mode of
conduct was so utterly repugnant to her af-
fections, her sense of the obedience due to


him, and every feeling and principle which had
ever governed her conduct, that she could not
for a moment bring herself to think of doing
it, in even the most trivial instance, except
when there was a positive danger of mislead-
ing her son; and the duty of implanting true
notions of right and wrong in his mind, she
ever held paramount to every other.
Left in a great measure to his own manage-
ment, Ludovico now worked incessantly; and
when he had finished a little parcel of pic-
tures, took them out into the neighboring
villages of this populous district for sale: a
, circumstance of great utility to him, as the
exercise he was obliged to take was of the
greatest use to his health; and the country-
women who bought his pictures frequently
gave him a crust of bread and basin of un-
adulterated milk, which was far more nourish-
ing than the unwholesome viands on which
he had lately fed, and of which his extreme
anxiety to save money for his great purpose
had allowed him far less than was really ne-
cessary for a growing boy. Yet Ludovico's
care, so far from closing his heart to the


sorrows of others, only made him more
anxious to relieve them; and his roll was
often shared with the beggar whom he met
on his rambles.
Amongst other objects of Ludovico's com-
passion was an old woman who sold matches,
mop-thrums, and little paper bags for the
maids to put feathers in. He enquired of
this poor woman, What she gave for the
last!" To which she answered by complain-
ing that she had only two left, and could get
no more; at the same time lamenting she
could not make them herself, as they were
the most profitable articles she sold.
Ludovico, after examining one, bought it
of her; as he did so, these words passed his
mind, "Silver and Gold have I none, but
such as I have give I unto thee." His eyes
filled with tears as he looked at the withered
face and grey hair of the poor old woman;
and as it was his custom to run away when
his feelings were awakened, he scampered
out of sight before the old woman had time
to perceive that he had given her three-pence
for her two-penny bag.

" Now the blessing of God go with thee,
my bonny bairn !" said the old woman, for
she was convinced by the look of the boy that
it was done intentionally.
No need to bless he for an odd penny,"
said a woman who was standing by; "why,
Goody, that's the boy as sells the pictures
all about; he 's bought your bag on purpose
for a pattern, and by next market-day he '11
be selling a whole mass of 'em, ye'll see
Well, well, we mun awl live," said the
poor dame.
On the next market-day Ludovico was
seen as usual, silently standing in Briggate
with his pictures, and something folded in a
newspaper under his arm: he had now been
regularly working for several months, and
his sale was of course not so rapid as at first,
especially as he had raised his prices. Just
as he had finished bargaining with a cobbler,
who wished for a painting to ornament his
stall, he cast his eyes upon the old woman
with her match-basket, and springing gladly
forward, he opened his little parcel, and


produced nine neat paper bags, very pret-
tily made, which he silently put into her
An' what mun I gie thee for these, my
lad? They be just what I wanted."
"Nothing, nothing at all; you are wel-
come," said Ludovico; as he spoke, trying
to escape the poor woman's surprise and
thanks by edging his way backward into
the crowd.
At this moment a loud altercation was
taking place between two corn-factors, one of
whom, in an angry voice, was repeating the
"' Tis false, I tell you, false altogether; I
paid you for the second load along with the
other, as my receipt will show."
I shall believe the receipt when I see it,
but not till then; for the twenty-eight pounds
stand in my book uncrossed; whereas the
fifty pounds is just as it ought to be, made
received, all in order."
More shame for you, not settling your
books; but I 'll convince you, I 'll prove to
you," said the first, in a very angry tone,


taking out his pocket book, and turning over
the leaves with great agitation.
At this very moment poor Ludovico had
the ill-luck to jostle the angry man in his re-
treat, who, in the moment of vexation, gave
him such a violent blow, that many of the
papers in his pocket-book fell out: the book
was full of bills, for he was going to make a
large payment, and the consciousness of his
folly instantly calmed his anger. He gather-
ed his papers up as well as he could, look-
ing in vain for the receipt, which he declared
he possessed, and proposed stepping into the
hotel to examine more minutely the contents
of the disarranged pocket-book; saying at
the same time, I believe I have lost no-
thing, but that is more by good luck than
good looking after."
This was more than Ludovico could say,
for he had not only got a hard blow, but his
pictures were all thrown down on the dirty
stones, which were wet from a recent shower,
and the labours of a week were lost in a mo-
ment. The poor woman would have wiped
them for him, but Ludovico, knowing all


was lost, hastily clapped them together, and
was departing, when he perceived something
of paper sticking to his foot, which he had
no doubt had come from the angry man's
pocket-book-an idea which was instantly
confirmed by perceiving that it was a Leeds
bank-note for five guineas.
Ludovico had that morning counted his
store, which, with the stock he hoped to dis
pose of that day, amounted to something
more than three pounds. He looked wist-
fully at the bill,-" Five pounds five, and
three pounds seven," said he inwardly,
"make eight pounds twelve. Oh, that it
was mine!"
2hine, honey ? It is thine, to be sure;
and much good may thee have of it," said the
old woman.
Nay, goody, it is the gentleman's that
struck me."
"More brute he But I doesn't think it
be his'n, for he said he had got all that be-
longed to him, and many a man as rich as he
have gone over these stones to day : take it,
child-take it; 't is a God-send to thee for


helping a poor old woman, and it came to
thee in the very nick of time, as a body may
say, just as I was praying for thee in my
own heart; that it did."
This was indeed persuasive logic, and for
a moment Ludovico yielded to it; but the
next convinced him that he ought at least to
inquire for the gentleman to whom the pocket-
book belonged, persuading himself that, as he
seemed a rich man even if he had lost the bill,
he might perhaps give it to him as a reward: he
therefore hastened after him to the hotel, but
having no name or description to give of the
gentleman sufficiently clear, he could gain no
attention, and was at length turned out by
the' waiter. As he was making his way to
the prison, in order, at last, to make his mo-
ther acquainted with the whole affair, he saw
the very person he wanted riding past him in
full gallop: Ludovico called out to him to
stop, but the gentleman remembering him
only by the blow he had given him, did not
stop; he threw a shilling on the pavement to
the boy, and pursued his course as fast as a
good horse could carry him.


Several people who witnessed this transaction
asked Ludovico why he wanted the person
to stop; to which he replied by eagerly ask-
ing his name. They were all unacquainted with
him, and united in saying they did not think he
was a person who regularly frequented their
market, as they had never seen him before.
Ludovico went home to the tailor's garret,
laid down his parcel of ruined pictures,
which were of no worth but for the paste-
board they were mounted on, and, putting
all his money into his bosom, prepared to lay
this case of conscience before his mother; at
the same time recollecting all that the old
woman had said, respecting his right to the
five guineas, and concluding that it could not
have been lost by the person in question, who,
since he had seen him, and seen him, too, in
the very act of calling to him, would, if he
had been conscious of such a loss,.have doubt-
less made inquiries of one so likely to inform
When Ludovico arrived at the prison, he
found his father feverish and languid, thrown
upon the bed, and his little sister laidI on her


mother's lap. She held up her head on his
coming, and, as well as she was able to arti-
culate, asked him for an apple; being wont
to receive all her little indulgences of this
kind through his hands; for though in habits
of the strictest self-denial, Ludovico seldom
came empty-handed : matters of greater mo-
ment had now occupied him, and with an
apologizing kiss he passed by her to inquire
after his father.
I am dying for want of air and exer-
cise," said Lewis faintly to his affectionate
"But my father, I hope, I believe,-
that is, if my mother thinks it right, -I can
-yes, indeed I can take you out of this
terrible place."
He then recounted briefly his agreement
with the tailor, the success he had met with,
the money he had saved, notwithstanding
the loss he had sustained in the onset, and
lastly, the note he had found, with all his
cares and doubts.
The prospect of regained liberty inspired
the dejected Lewis with new life: he sprung


from his pitiful couch, caught his young de-
liverer to his heart; called him the pre-
server of his life, his noble, his generous boy,
and shed a torrent of tears on his face. Ludo-
vico, exceedingly affected, warmly returned
his caresses; but yet this event, so long, so
ardently desired, for which he had prayed
so oft, and worked so hard, failed to give
him the happiness he had expected; for,
though his father's joy was indeed grateful
to his heart, his mother had not yet spoken:
he looked earnestly and doubtingly in her
You look at me, my child. Can you
doubt my approbation-my sincere joy!
Believe me, my dear boy, your industry,
care, and perseverance, have my truest admi-
ration; but I wish, I cannot help wishing,
as I see you do, that we -could find the owner
of this bill."
We must advertise it, by all means,"
said Lewis. "I will copy the number; and
if any owner should really be found, of which
I have not the slightest expectation, we must
of course return it to the true owner."

"But how can we return it, if we pay
it away !"
"Dear Agnes, how can you raise objec-
tions so cruel to me? how can you bear to
see my best days consumed in a prison which
destroys all my energies, and enervates the
very faculties whose exertion would support
us? You know I cannot paint here. How
should I, when my very soul is shackled by
useless regrets! but give me liberty, and
you shall see of what I am capable !"
Agnes reflected for a moment; then rising,
she said she would immediately see Mr.
Bradley, and urge the performance of his
promise, to accept this half-payment, and
liberate her husband: But," she added,
turning to Ludovico, "you and I must, as
soon as we are able, make up this sum, my
child, in order that we may be able to answer
this just demand, should it ever be made
upon us: our sweetest joys, our best propen-
sities, must not be purchased by our inte-
The tailor was not an ill-tempered, still less
an unfeeling man; he readily entered into an


agreement with Mrs. Lewis to accept the rest
of his debt by instalments, and the instant
liberation of Lewis was accomplished; in
truth, the creditor would never have detained
him so long, but from the idea that he was
an idle, dissipated man, to whom punishment
might be serviceable. He was mistaken in
his conception of the character of poor Lewis,
who was prone to no vice whatsoever, and
was, for the most part, laborious in his applica-
tion, though not persevering; but he was not
altogether wrong in his mode of curing the
kind of errors into which he had really fallen ;
since his late sufferings had, for a time, the
effect of inducing him to turn his mind to the
necessity of rendering his profession profit-
able. This he was the better enabled to do,
from his frame-maker agreeing to take his
pictures off his hands; which, though done
to a certain degree during his residence in
prison for the payment of an old debt, had
not yet been immediately beneficial to him,
as he had owed his support there entirely to
the industry of his wife, who, although ob-
liged to nurse a child whose first steps were


learnt in that melancholy abode, yet made
shift to obtain food for all; and by her dili-
gence, patience, and resignation, not only
provided for his wants, but soothed his sor-
rows, and endeavoured, by unremitting kind-
ness and unwearied well-doing, to lead him
to that fountain of consolation from whence
she derived support under her accumulated
When a few days were passed, and Mrs.
Lewis had put an advertisement in the news-
paper,-a circumstance which greatly re-
lieved both her own mind and that of Ludo-
vico, the latter again set seriously to work,
and after preparing his accustomed number,
he recollected his last spoiled cargo still left
in the tailor's garret, from which he now
fetched them, intending to turn the boards
to the best account possible. In dividing
two of those which were joined by the dirt,
he saw a piece of paper, which, to his eye,
nearly resembled another bank bill: the first
he had met with had, notwithstanding the
happy effects it had produced to his dear


father, left a weight upon his heart it had
never known before, and he felt a repugnance
to touching it: his mother was sitting at
work near him, and he immediately pointed
it out to her.
Mrs. Lewis, gently turning the paper from
the place where it stuck, found it was a re-
ceipt for seventy-eight pounds, specified as
being due on two bills, from John Higgins
to Timothy Jackson; it was dated Thorpe
Farm, Dec. 26.
Ay, now it is all plain, quite plain," said
poor Ludovico. Mr. Higgins had good
reason for being in a passion; and it is very,
very hard, that he should lose both his money
and his receipt. But where is Thorpe Farm,
I wonder !"
I cannot answer that; we must advertise
again, for there are many places of that
name," said Mrs. Lewis.
Poor Ludovico's countenance fell. Alas !
mother, we cannot advertise; you know we
have got no money." As he spoke, he sat
down with an air of such extreme mortifica-

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