Fra. There you were very right. Did you carry him much money?

Pet. I don't know; I didn't count it. It was in a bit of a green purse. Mayhap it may be some little matter that she has scraped together in the last fortnight.

Fra. And why just in the last fortnight?

Pet. Because, about a fortnight since, I carried him some money before.

Fra. From Mrs. Haller?

Father's not

Pet. Ay, sure; who else, think you? such a fool. He says it is our bounden duty, as Christians, to take care of our money, and not give any thing away, especially in summer; for then, says he, there's herbs and roots enough in conscience to satisfy all the reasonable hungry poor. But I say, father's wrong, and Mrs. Haller right.

Fra. Yes, yes. But this Mrs. Haller seems a strange woman, Peter?

Pet. Ay, at times she is plaguy odd. Why she'll sit and cry you a whole day through, without any one knowing why, or wherefore. And, somehow or other, whenever she cries I always cry too-without knowing why, or wherefore.

Fra. [To the Stranger.] Are you satisfied?

Stra. Rid me of that babbler.

Fra. Good day, Master Peter.

Pet. You're not going yet, are you?

Fra. Mrs. Haller will be waiting for an answer.

Pet. So she will. And I have another place or two to call at. [Tukes off his hat to the Stranger.] Servant, sir! Stra. Phaw.

Pet. Pshaw! What-he's angry? [Peter turns to Francis in a half whisper.] He's angry, I suppose because he can get nothing out of me.

Fra. It almost seems so.

Pet. Ay, I'd have him to know I'm no blab.

Stra. What do you want?

Fra. Now, sir?

Fra. Were you not wrong, sir?

Stra. Hem! Wrong!

Fra. Can you still doubt?

[Exit, L.

[Crosses, L.

Stra. I'll hear no more! Who is this Mrs. Haller ! Why do I always follow her path? Go where I will, whenever I try to do good, she has always been before

Fra. You should rejoice at that.

Stra. Rejoice!

Fra. Surely! That there are other good and charitable people in the world beside yourself.

Stra. Oh, yes!

Fra. Why not seek to be acquainted with her?

I saw

her yesterday in the garden up at the Castle. Mr. Solomon, the steward, says she has been unwell, and confined to her room almost ever since we have been here. But ore would not think it, to look at her; for a more beautiful creature I never saw.

Stra. So much the worse. Beauty is a mask.

Fra. In her it seems a mirror of the soul. Her charities

Stra. Talk not to me of her charities. All women wish to be conspicuous :-in town by their wit; in the country by their heart.

Fra. "Tis immaterial in what way good is done.
Stra. No; 'tis not immaterial.

Fra. To this poor old man, at least.

Stra. He needs no assistance of mine.

Fra His most urgent wants, indeed, Mrs. Haller may have relieved; but whether she has or could have given as much as would purchase liberty for the son, the prop of his age

Stra. Silence! I will not give him a doit! [Crosses, R.] You interest yourself very warmly in his behalf. Perhaps you are to be a sharer in the gift.

Fra. Sir, sir, that did not come from your heart.
Stra. [Recollecting himself.] Forgive me!

Fra. My poor master! How must the world have used you before it could have instilled this hatred of mankind, this constant doubt of honesty and virtue !

Stra. Leave me to myself!

[Throws himself on a seat, R. U. E.; takes from his pocket "Zimmerman on Solitude," and reads.

Fra. [Aside, surveying him.] Again reading! Thus it i from moru to night. To him nature has no beauty; life no charm. For three years I have never seen him smile. [Tobias enters from the hut.] What will be his fate at last? Nothing diverts him. Oh, if he would but attach himself to any living thing! Were it but an animal-for something man must love.

TOBIAS advances, L.

Tob. Oh! how refreshing, after seven long weeks, to

feel these warm sun-beams once again! Thanks! thanks! bounteous Heaven, for the joy I taste.

[Presses his cap between his hands, looks up and prays.— [The Stranger observes him attentively.

Fra. [To the Stranger.] This old man's share o earthly happiness can be but little; yet mark how grateful he is for his portion of it.

Stra. Because, though old, he is but a child in the leading strings of Hope.

Fra. Hope is the nurse of life.

Stra. And her cradle is the grave.

[Tobias replaces his cap.-Francis crosses behind to L. Fra. I wish you joy. I am glad to see you are so much recovered.

Tob. Thank you. Heaven, and the assistance of a kind lady, have saved me for another year or two.

Fra. How old are you, pray?

Tob. Fourscore and four. To be sure, I can expect but little joy before I die. Yet, there is another and a better world.

Fra. To the unfortunate, then, death is scarce an evil? Tob. And am I so unfortunate? Do I not enjoy this glorious morning? Am I not in health again? Believe me, sir, he, who, leaving the bed of sickness, for the first time breathes the fresh pure air, is, at that moment, the happiest of his Maker's creatures.

Fra. Yet 'tis a happiness that fails upon enjoyment

This

Tob. True; but less so in old age. Some sixty years ago, my father left me this cottage. I was a strong lad; and took an honest wife. Heaven blessed my farm with rich crops, and my marriage with five children. lasted nine or ten years. Two of my children died. I felt it sorely. The land was afflicted with a famine. My wife assisted me in supporting our family: but four years after she left our dwelling for a better place. And of my five children only one son remained. This was blow upon blow. It was long before I regained my fortitude. At length, resignation and religion had their effect. I again attached myself to life. My son grew, and helped me in my work. Now the State has called him away to bear a musket. This is to me a loss indeed. I can work no more. I am old and weak; and true it is, but for Mrs. Haller, I must have perished.

Fra. Still, then, life has its charms for you?

Tob. Why not, while the world holds any thing that' dear to me? Have not I a son?

Fra. Who knows that you will ever see him more? He may be dead.

Tob. Alas! he may. But as long as I am not sure of it, he lives to me: And, if he falls, 'tis in his country's cause. Nay, should I lose him, still I should not wish to die. Here is the hut in which I was born. Here is the tree that grew with me; and, I am almost ashamed to confess itI have a dog which I love. [Stranger rises and advances, R. Fra. A dog!

Tob. Yes!-Smile, if you please: but hear me. My benefactress once came to my hut herself, some time before you fixed here. The poor animal, unused to see the form of elegance and beauty enter the door of penury, growled at her." I wonder you keep that surly, ugly animal, Mr. Tobias," said she; "you, who have hardly food enough for yourself."-" Ah, madam," I replied, "and it I part with him, are you sure that any thing else will love me?"-She was pleased with my answer.

Fra. [To Stranger.] Excuse me, sir; but I wish you had listened.

Stra. I have listened.

[Crosses centre. Fra. Then sir, I wish you would follow this poor old man's example.

Stra. Here; take this book, and lay it on my desk. [Fruncis goes into the Lodge with the book.] How much has this Mrs. Haller given you?

Tob. Oh, sir, she has given me so much that I can look towards winter without fear.

Stra. No more?

Tob. What could I do with more ?-Ah! true; I might

Stra. I know it.-You might buy your son's release.— There! [Presses a purse into his hand, and exit, R. Tob. What is all this? [Opens the purse, and finds it full of gold.] Merciful heaven!

Enter FRANCIS, from the Lodge, just in time to see the Stranger give the purse.

-Now look, sir: is confidence in Heaven unrewarded? Fra. I wish you joy! My master gave you this?

Tob. Yes, your noble master.

Heaven reward him!

Fra. Just like him. He sent me with his book, that no

one might be witness to his bounty.

Tob. He would not even take my thanks. He was gone before I could speak.

Fra. Just his way.

Tob. Now I'll go as quick as these old legs will bear me. What a delightful errand! I go to release my Robert! How the lad will rejoice! There is a girl, too, iu the village that will rejoice with him. O, Providence, how good art thou! [Exit, L.

SCENE II-An Antichamber in Wintersen Castle.

Enter SUSAN, R. meeting GEORGE, L.

Susan. Why, George! Harry! Where have you been loitering? Put down these things. Mrs. Haller has been calling for you this half hour.

Geo. Well, here I am, then. What does she want with me?

Susan. That she will tell you herself. Here she comes. Enter MRS. HALLER, with a Letter; HANNAH following, R.

Mrs. H. Very well; if those things are done, let the drawing-room be made ready immediately.-[Exeunt Maids, R.] And, George, run immediately into the park, and tell Mr. Solomon I wish to speak with him. [Exit George, L.] I cannot understand this. I do not learn whether their coming to this place be but the whim of a moment, or a plan for a longer stay! If the latter, farewell, solitude! Farewell, study !-farewell!-Yes, I must make room for gaiety and mere frivolity. Yet could I willingly submit to all: but should the Countess give me new proofs of her attachment, perhaps of her respect, Oh! how will my conscience upbraid me! Or if this seat be visited by company, and chance should conduct hither any of my former acquaintance-Alas! alas! how wretched is the being who fears the sight of any one fellow-creature! But, Oh! superior misery! to dread still more the presence of a former friend!-[Peter knocks, L.] Who's there?

Enter PETER, L.

Pet. Nobody. It's only me.

Mrs. H. So soon returned?

Pet. Sharp lad, an't I? On the road I've had a bit of talk too, and

Mrs. H. But you have observed my directions?

Pet. Oh, yes, yes :-I told old Tobias as how he would never know, as long as he lived, that the money came from you.

Mrs. H. You found him quite recovered, I hove?