One advantage, however, accrued to Mr. Hastings from his misfor tunes. His temper was gradually softened; his passions subsided; he attempted to alleviate by kindness the sufferings of his partners in affliction, and behaved with the greatest tenderness and regard to his wife, of whose amiable qualities he became every day more sensible. Charles, in the mean time, was passing through a variety of fortune. His first setting out was very unfavourable. The captain, to whom he had greatly recommended himself by his assiduities, died on the passage; and he was set on shore at Madras, without money, without a patron, or a friend. He was almost ready to perish for want, when an opulent merchant of the factory took compassion on him, and carried him to his house. After experiencing his diligence and fidelity for some time in a very low station, the gentleman advanced him to his counting. house, and initiated him in the commercial business of the settle ment. During a short probation in this office, the youth exhibited such tokens of capacity, that he was thought a proper person to be sent to a distance up the country, to a trading post of some consequence. He here managed some difficult and important concerns with so much address, and acted on some critical emergencies with such propriety and resolution, that he acquired the confidence of the whole fac tory. He was soon promoted to a lucrative and honourable station, and began to make a fortune with a rapidity peculiar to that country. The impression of injury with which he had left his father's house, and the subsequent hardships he underwent, for a long time stifled every emotion of filial affection. He never thought of home but as the scene of severe and unmerited chastisement, and resolved never to return to it without a full acknowledgment of the injustice of his expulsion. By degrees, however, as better prospects opened upon him, his heart began to relent. He melted at the recollection of the uniform kindness of his mother, and the playful endearments of his brothers and sisters. He even formed excuses for his father's severity, and condemned his own obstinacy as, at least, equally blameable. He grew so uneasy under these impressions, that not all the flattering prospects before him could induce him to delay any longer an interview which he so ardently desired. He collected all his property, and took his passage for England, where he arrived safe, after an absence of nine years. On his landing he met with a townsman, who informed him of the melancholy change in his father's situation. With a heart agitated by every tender cmotion, he instantly set off for the place of their abode. It was towards the approach of evening, when the unhappy couple, in melancholy despondence, sat by their gloomy fire. A letter which Mr. Hastings had that day received form the landlord of his little habitation, to whom he was somewhat in arrear, threw more than usual dejection over the family. Ilolding the letter in his hand, What shall we do?" said he......" he threatens to turns us out of doors......Unfeeling man! But how can I expect more mercy from a stranger than I shewed to my own son?"......The reflection was too much for Mrs. Hastings to bear... she wrung her hands......sobbed, and wept bitterly. Not a thought of their present situation dwelt upon her mind....she felt only for her longlost son. The eldest daughter, whose elegance of form was ill-concealed by the meanness of her dress, went up to her mother, and while the sympathetic tears trickled down her cheeks, locked a hand in her's, and with the other supported her head. The father sighed from the bottom of his heart; and two youths, his eldest remaining sons, hung over the mournful scene with looks of settled melancholy. Some of the younger children, as yet unconscious of sorrow, were seated round the door. They ran in with the news that a chaise had stopt before the house, and a fine gentleman was getting out of it. He entered a moment after, when, on viewing the group before him, he had just strength to stagger to a chair, and fainted. The family crowded round him, and the mother, looking eagerly in his face, cried, "My son......my son!" and sunk down beside him. The father stood awhile, with his hands clasped in stupid astonishment ......then dropt on his knee, and exclaimed, Heaven, I thank thee!" He then flew to his son, took him in his arms, and by his tender embraces recalled him to life. His recollection no sooner returned, than he threw himself at his father's feet, and asked forgiveness. "Forgive thee, Charles!" said the father......" it is I, my child, who ought to entreat forgiveness for the cruel injury I did thee." He then raised him, and again clasped him in his arms, bedewing his face with many tears. -- The mother, in the mean time, lay senseless in the arms of her daughter. The rest of the family, confused and affrighted, knew not what to think of the scene, and the little ones began to cry aloud for their mother, who, indeed, was to all appearance dead. It was long before the assiduities of her son and husband produced any signs of returning life; and when her eyes opened on the object they had so long desired to see, the impression proved again too strong, and violent fits succeeded to fainting. She was carried to bed, where, by degrees, she recovered serenity enough to behold and embrace her son. All the rest of the family, by turns, succeeded to the embraces of their brother; and the eldest sister, who easily recollected the beloved companion of her youth, exhibited marks of the liveliest sensibility. After the first tender greetings and inquiries were over, Charles briefly related to his parents the various events that befallen him...softening, however, the distressful parts, lest he should renew sensations already too painful. He concluded with acquainting them, that all he had acquired was theirs......that he gave the whole to their disposal, and should only consider himself as a sharer with the rest of the children. The generosity and filial piety of this proposal excited their warmest admiration, and occasioned no sinall compunction in the father for his treatment of such a son. He would not accept the offer in its full extent; but borrowing a considerable share of his son's property, associated him with himself in a mercantile concern, which enabled him to provide handsomely for the rest of the family, and to pass the remainder of his days in ease and content. SASSOONAN; or, THE SPECULATIVE SAVAGE. By Mr. Watson. T is not in societies only where the sciences and arts of life extend ledge is easily accessible, that men attain a capacious reach of thought. Sometimes, in rude ages, and among herds of barbarians, there will arise spirits of a loftier cast, that often exceed the growth of happier times. There is an energy, a fire of the soul, which education cannot give, but which it can often quench. Pines shoot with the greatest vigour from a barren soil; and Genius, that struggles with difficulties, in that circumstance gains an accession to it's strength, which perhaps compensates for the want of assistance from the skill and experience of others, which tends to weaken the mind's reliance on itself. Europe can display the mind in all the magnificence of science, and elegance of polished manners, but the rude, though manly virtues, may rise with lustre amidst the forests of America. Sassoonan was born among the people who are called Chickasaws. The natural activity of his mind created in him an insatiable ambition, which could alone be gratified by the honours of war. He was ever the first of his young countrymen in prosecuting the hazardous actions suggested to them by the older Indians. He was impatient of superiority, and eagerly caught at every opportunity by which he might obtain the praises of the old warriors; but as his exploits originated in a desire of eminence, rather than in a natural cruelty, his ferocity was tempered by more humanity than is commonly found to mitigate the horrors that attend the animosities of the American Indians. As he soon gained, by his intrepidity, a first rank among the warriors. of his nation, the current of his passions began to abate of its violence; and as he drew near to the possession of the glory that had been so long the object of his desires, he was less agitated by its impulses, and his ingenuous mind had time to expand, and turn itself to other pursuits. His countrymen had long been at war with a people who lived on the south-west borders of the Lake Ontario, who were nearly equal to the Chickasaws in their reputation for bravery. One of the warriors |