bee in the garden, and the lily in the valleyFurther, whatever the native qualities of the king or beggar may be, independent of the faid external or perfonal diftinction, we may, however, be affured, that an edu cation in the midft of fenfuality and deception, of the exhibition of temptations and gratification of lufts, of paralites and pandars, obeifance and proftration, of corporal indulgence and mental impofition, can be no very good friend to the virtues.

If we carry the comparison further than this, we find the body of the king to be as frail, as obnoxious to pains, diteafe and inclemencies, even as naked, poor, and pe.. rishable, as that of a beggar.

But if we take the eye of Faith to fee further than with that of Philofophy, we behold their fouls alike immortal, of equal dignity and extent: we fee creatures relembling the Creator himself, breathed from his own fpirit, formed in his own image, and ordained to his own beatitude and eternity. Here all other diftinctions fall away and lofe their refpect; as an inftant would do in compariton of ages, or a molehill in comparison of yon boundless expanfe and here we find a beggar, whom the king limfeif is bound to reve zence, as being the unqueftioned heir of

a KING, in comparison of whom all other kings are but as beggars. How utterly vile and contemptible is all dignity and dominion, to fuch an heirship as this! an heirship hourly approaching, perhaps just at hand, when the magnificent ruin of man fhall be rebuilt, when his weakness fhall put on power, his corruption put on glory, and his mortal be wholly fwallowed up of immortality!

FR. I confefs that, for once, you have convinced me. Give me leave to proceed..

CHAP. XI.

OME time after this, Mr Fenton privately took Ned into his clofet, and calling him a good boy, and giving him a few thillings to buy playthings, defired him to give the belt hiftory he could. remember of himfelf, and his adventures before he met with Harry.

Sir, faid Ned, the first thing that I remember of my felt, is my going from houfe to houfe a begging with my mammy. I dreamed indeed that I was once in a fine houfe, and among fine people, but I don't know where nor when; and fo I believe, as I fay, it was only a dream.

Do

Do

you remember your daddy, Ned? No, fir, I never had a daddy that I know of. My mammy was very crois to me, and used to take from me all the money and victuals that I begged, and that was a great deal, for I never let people rett till they gave me fomething. And fo, fir, as I was faying, my mammy was very cross to me, and used to half ftaive me, and gave me a beating for every hour in the day.

Did the teach you your prayers, Ned? No, fir, I believe he had no prayers to teach me; for fhe uted to fwear and fcold fadly. And fo, fir, as I was telling you, we begged from houfe to houfe, fometimes in a rown and fometimes in the country, till the day the ran away from

me.

How came your mammy to run away from you, Ned? Why, fir, we were begging in your town, and had got fome haf pence and filled our bag, when my mammy took up a child at the town's end, and ran with it till fhe got into the next fields. The child, fir, cried fadly, and my mammy went fo taft that I could not keep up with her, do my beft. And fo we heard a man fhouting behind us, and my mammy turned and faw him running after her very faft, and fo the threw

down

down the child and her great bag on the ground, and made the best of her way to the next hedge, and got through it, fir; and fo I never faw any more of her.

What became of the chid, Neddy? When the man, fir, came up he lifted it off the ground, and he kiffed it a great many times, and made it quiet; and I am thinking he was fo glad to fee it, he took no notice of me; howfomever, he took up my mammy's great bag, and turned back and went the way he came. Then, fir, I fell a crying and roaring terribly to be left alone, and to have nobody in the world who would have any thing to fay to me; and I wifhed for my mammy again, bad as she was to me; and I ftrove to follow her thro' the hedge but was not able. And fo I faw a great house on one fide, and I was very fad when I went to it: and there it was that I met my own young mafter, and he put cloaths upon me with his own dear hands, and he took me to himself, and he is ever fince fo kind to me, that it troubles me very much; for I can do nothing at all for him, you know, fir, and that grieves me more than all the world.

Well, Neddy, fays Mr Fenton, do not cry my child. Be a good boy, and mind your book, and be lure you tell no lies,

nor

nor do mischief to any body; and I will take care of you, and be a father to you myself. But tell me, Ned, would you know the woman you call your mammy, if you should fee her again? Yes, yes, fir, cried Ned. There was not a day of my life but she gave me reason to remember her; I fhould know her from all the world, if I was not to fee the face of her for a hundred years to come.

I find, Ned, you are not over fond of your mammy. No indeed, fir, answered Ned; I love mafter Harry's little finger, and I would love yourself if I dared, fir, better than a thoufand fuch mammies as mine was; and that I fuppofe is very naughty; for all good children, they say, love their fathers and mothers. Well, Ned, fays Mr Fenton, if you happen at any time to fee her among the great numbers of beggars that come to our door, don't you speak to her, or fhew that you take the leaft notice of her, but come and tell me, or honeft James in my abfence, that we may take care of her, and force her to confefs whether she is, in reality, your mother or not.

While Mr Fenton was fpeaking, Andrew entered with tidings that a chariot was overturned not twenty yards from the door; and that he feared the people in it

were