Well, said she, you will quite forget my fault about Miss—He stopt her before she could speak the name, and said, For ever forget it!—And, Pamela, I'll forgive you too, if you don't again make my displeasure so light a thing to you, as you did just now.

Said my lady, She did not make your displeasure a light thing to her; but the heavier it was, the higher compliment she made me, that she would bear it all, rather than not see you and me reconciled. No matter for that, said he: It was either an absence of thought, or a slight by implication, at least, that my niceness could not bear from her tenderness: For looked it not presuming, that she could stand my displeasure, or was sure of making her terms when she pleased? Which, fond as I am of her, I assure her, will not be always, in wilful faults, in her power.

Nay, said my lady, I can tell you, Pamela, you have a gentleman here in my brother; and you may expect such treatment from him, as that character, and his known good sense and breeding, will always oblige him to shew: But if you offend, the Lord have mercy upon you!—You see how it is by poor me!—And yet I never knew him to forgive so soon.

I am sure, said I, I will take care as much as I can; for I have been frightened out of my wits, and had offended, before I knew where I was.

So happily did this storm blow over; and my lady was quite subdued and pacified.

When we came out of the garden, his chariot was ready; and he said, Well, sister, I had most assuredly gone away towards my other house, if things had not taken this happy turn; and, if you please, instead of it, you and I will take an airing: And pray, my dear, said he to me, bid Mrs. Jewkes order supper by eight o'clock, and we shall then join you.

Sir, added he, to her nephew, will you take your horse and escort us? I will, said he: and am glad, at my soul, to see you all so good friends.

So my dear lord and master handed my lady into his chariot, and her kinsman and his servants rode after them and I went up to my closet to ruminate on these things. And, foolish thing that I am, this poor Miss Sally Godfrey runs into my head!—How soon the name and quality of a wife gives one privileges, in one's own account!—Yet, methinks, I want to know more about her; for, is it not strange, that I, who lived years in the family, should have heard nothing of this? But I was so constantly with my lady, that I might the less hear of it; for she, I dare say, never knew it, or she would have told me.

But I dare not ask him about the poor lady.—Yet I wonder what became of her! Whether she be living? And whether any thing came of it?—May be I shall hear full soon enough!—But I hope not to any bad purpose.

As to the other unhappy case, I know it was talked of, that in his travels, before I was taken into the family long, he had one or two broils; and, from a youth, he was always remarkable for courage, and is reckoned a great master of his sword. God grant he may never be put to use it! and that he may be always preserved in honour and safety!

About seven o'clock my master sent word, that he would have me not expect him to supper; for that he, and my lady his sister, and nephew, were prevailed upon to stay with Lady Jones; and that Lady Darnford, and Mr. Peters's family, had promised to meet them there. I was glad they did not send for me; and the rather, as I hoped those good families being my friends, would confirm my lady a little in my favour; and so I followed my writing closely.

About eleven o'clock they returned. I had but just come down, having tired myself with my pen, and was sitting talking with Mrs. Jewkes and Mrs. Worden, whom I would, though unwillingly on their sides, make sit down, which they did over against me. Mrs. Worden asked my pardon, in a good deal of confusion, for the part she had acted against me; saying, That things had been very differently represented to her; and that she little thought I was married, and that she was behaving so rudely to the lady of the house.

I said, I took nothing amiss; and very freely forgave her; and hoped my new condition would not make me forget how to behave properly to every one; but that I must endeavour to act not unworthy of it, for the honour of the gentleman who had so generously raised me to it.

Mrs. Jewkes said, that my situation gave me great opportunities of shewing the excellence of my nature, that I could forgive offences against me so readily, as she, for her own part, must always, she said, acknowledge, with confusion of face.

People, said I, Mrs. Jewkes, don't know how they shall act, when their wills are in the power of their superiors; and I always thought one should distinguish between acts of malice, and of implicit obedience; though, at the same time, a person should know how to judge between lawful and unlawful. And even the great, though at present angry they are not obeyed, will afterwards have no ill opinion of a person for withstanding them in their unlawful commands.

Mrs. Jewkes seemed a little concerned at this; and I said, I spoke chiefly from my own experience: For that I might say, as they both knew my story, that I had not wanted both for menaces and temptations; and had I complied with the one, or been intimidated by the other, I should not have been what I was.

Ah, madam! replied Mrs. Jewkes, I never knew any body like you; and I think your temper sweeter, since the happy day, than before; and that, if possible, you take less upon you.

Why, a good reason, said I, may be assigned for that: I thought myself in danger: I looked upon every one as my enemy; and it was impossible that I should not be fretful, uneasy, jealous. But when my dearest friend had taken from me the ground of my uneasiness, and made me quite happy, I should have been very blamable, if I had not shewn a satisfied and easy mind, and a temper that should engage every one's respect and love at the same time, if possible: And so much the more, as it was but justifying, in some sort, the honour I had received: For the fewer enemies I made myself, the more I engaged every one to think, that my good benefactor had been less to blame in descending as he has done.

This way of talking pleased them both very much; and they made me many compliments upon it, and wished me always to be happy, as, they said, I so well deserved.

We were thus engaged, when my master, and his sister and her nephew, came in: and they made me quite alive, in the happy humour in which they all returned. The two women would have withdrawn: but my master said, Don't go, Mrs. Worden: Mrs. Jewkes, pray stay; I shall speak to you presently. So he came to me, and, saluting me, said, Well, my dear love, I hope I have not trespassed upon your patience, by an absence longer than we designed. But it has not been to your disadvantage; for though we had not your company, we have talked of nobody else but you.

My lady came up to me, and said, Ay, child, you have been all our subject. I don't know how it is: but you have made two or three good families, in this neighbourhood, as much your admirers, as your friend here.

My sister, said he, has been hearing your praises, Pamela, from half a score mouths, with more pleasure than her heart will easily let her express.

My good Lady Davers's favour, said I, and the continuance of yours, sir, would give me more pride than that of all the rest of the world put together.

Well, child, said she, proud hearts don't come down all at once; though my brother, here, has this day set mine a good many pegs lower than I ever knew it: But I will say, I wish you joy with my brother; and so kissed me.

My dear lady, said I, you for ever oblige me!—I shall now believe myself quite happy. This was all I wanted to make me so!—And I hope I shall always, through my life, shew your ladyship, that I have the most grateful and respectful sense of your goodness.

But, child, said she, I shall not give you my company when you make your appearance. Let your own merit make all your Bedfordshire neighbours your friends, as it has done here, by your Lincolnshire ones; and you'll have no need of my countenance, nor any body's else.

Now, said her nephew, 'tis my turn: I wish you joy with all my soul, madam; and, by what I have seen, and by what I have heard, 'fore Gad, I think you have met with no more than you deserve; and so all the company says, where we have been: And pray forgive all my nonsense to you.

Sir, said I, I shall always, I hope, respect as I ought, so near a relation of my good Lord and Lady Davers; and I thank you for your kind compliment.

Gad, Beck, said he, I believe you've some forgiveness too to ask; for we were all to blame, to make madam, here, fly the pit, as she did. Little did we think we made her quit her own house.

Thou always, said my lady, sayest too much, or too little.

Mrs. Worden said, I have been treated with so much goodness and condescension since you went, that I have been beforehand, sir, in asking pardon myself.

So my lady sat down with me half an hour, and told me, that her brother had carried her a fine airing, and had quite charmed her with his kind treatment of her; and had much confirmed her in the good opinion she had begun to entertain of my discreet and obliging behaviour: But, continued she, when he would make me visit, without intending to stay, my old neighbours, (for, said she, Lady Jones being nearest, we visited her first; and she scraped all the rest of the company together,) they were all so full of your praises, that I was quite borne down; and, truly, it was Saul among the prophets!

You may believe how much I was delighted with this; and I spared not my due acknowledgments.

When her ladyship took leave, to go to bed, she said, Goodnight to you, heartily, and to your good man. I kissed you when I came in, out of form; but I now kiss you out of more than form, I'll assure you.

Join with me, my dear parents, in my joy for this happy turn; the contrary of which I so much dreaded, and was the only difficulty I had to labour with. This poor Miss Sally Godfrey, I wonder what's become of her, poor soul! I wish he would, of his own head, mention her again.—Not that I am very uneasy, neither.—You'll say, I must be a little saucy, if I was.

My dear master gave me an account, when we went up, of the pains he had taken with his beloved sister, as he himself styled her; and of all the kind things the good families had said in my behalf; and that he observed she was not so much displeased with hearing them, as she was at first; when she would not permit any body to speak of me as his wife: And that my health, as his spouse, being put; when it came to her, she drank it; but said, Come, brother, here's your Pamela to you: But I shall not know how to stand this affair, when the Countess——, and the young ladies, come to visit me. One of these young ladies was the person she was so fond of promoting a match for, with her brother.—Lady Betty, I know, she said, will rally me smartly upon it; and you know, brother, she wants neither wit nor satire. He said, I hope, Lady Betty, whenever she marries, will meet with a better husband than I should have made her; for, in my conscience, I think I should hardly have made a tolerable one to any but Pamela.

He told me that they rallied him on the stateliness of his temper; and said, They saw he would make an exceeding good husband where he was; but it must be owing to my meekness, more than to his complaisance; for, said Miss Darnford, I could see well enough, when your ladyship detained her, though he had but hinted his desire of finding her at our house, he was so out of humour at her supposed noncompliance, that mine and my sister's pity for her was much more engaged, than our envy.

Ay, said my lady, he is too lordly a creature, by much; and can't bear disappointment, nor ever could.

Said he, Well, Lady Davers, you should not, of all persons, find fault with me; for I bore a great deal from you, before I was at all angry.

Yes, replied she: but when I had gone a little too far, as I own I did, you made me pay for it severely enough! You know you did, sauce-box. And the poor thing too, added she, that I took with me for my advocate, so low had he brought me! he treated her in such a manner as made my heart ache for her: But part was art, I know, to make me think the better of her.

Indeed, sister, said he, there was very little of that; for, at that time, I cared not what you thought, nor had complaisance enough to have given a shilling for your good or bad opinion of her or me. And, I own, I was displeased to be broken in upon, after your provocations, by either of you and she must learn that lesson, never to come near me, when I am in those humours; which shall be as little as possible: For, after a while, if let alone, I always come to myself, and am sorry for the violence of a temper, so like my dear sister's here: And, for this reason think it is no matter how few witnesses I have of its intemperance, while it lasts; especially since every witness, whether they merit it or not, as you see in my Pamela's case, must be a sufferer by it, if, unsent for, they come in my way.

He repeated the same lesson to me again, and enforced it and owned, that he was angry with me in earnest, just then; though more with himself, afterwards, for being so: But when, Pamela, said he, you wanted to transfer all my displeasure upon yourself, it was so much braving me with your merit, as if I must soon end my anger, if placed there; or it was making it so light to you, that I was truly displeased: for, continued he, I cannot bear that you should wish, on any occasion whatever, to have me angry with you, or not to value my displeasure as the heaviest misfortune that could befall you.

But, sir, said I, you know, that what I did was to try to reconcile my lady; and, as she herself observed, it was paying her a high regard. It was so, replied he; but never think of making a compliment to her, or any body living, at my expense. Besides, she had behaved herself so intolerably, that I began to think you had stooped too much, and more than I ought to permit my wife to do; and acts of meanness are what I can't endure in any body, but especially where I love: and as she had been guilty of a very signal one, I had much rather have renounced her at that time, than have been reconciled to her.

Sir, said I, I hope I shall always comport myself so, as not wilfully to disoblige you for the future; and the rather do I hope this, as I am sure I shall want only to know your pleasure to obey it. But this instance shews me, that I may much offend, without designing it in the least.

Now, Pamela, replied he, don't be too serious: I hope I shan't be a very tyrannical husband to you: Yet do I not pretend to be perfect, or to be always governed by reason in my first transports; and I expect, from your affection, that you will bear with me when you find me wrong. I have no ungrateful spirit, and can, when cool, enter as impartially into myself as most men; and then I am always kind and acknowledging, in proportion as I have been out of the way.

But to convince you, my dear, continued he, of your fault, (I mean, with regard to the impetuosity of my temper; for there was no fault in your intention, that I acknowledge,) I'll observe only, that you met, when you came to me, while I was so out of humour, a reception you did not expect, and a harsh word or two that you did not deserve. Now, had you not broken in upon me while my anger lasted, but staid till I had come to you, or sent to desire your company, you'd have seen none of this; but that affectionate behaviour, which I doubt not you'll always merit, and I shall always take pleasure in expressing: and in this temper shall you always find a proper influence over me: But you must not suppose, whenever I am out of humour, that, in opposing yourself to my passion, you oppose a proper butt to it; but when you are so good, like the slender reed, to bend to the hurricane, rather than, like the sturdy oak, to resist it, you will always stand firm in my kind opinion, while a contrary conduct would uproot you, with all your excellencies, from my soul.

Sir, said I, I will endeavour to conform myself, in all things, to your will. I make no doubt but you will: and I'll endeavour to make my will as conformable to reason as I can. And let me tell you, that this belief of you is one of the inducements I have had to marry at all: for nobody was more averse to this state than myself; and, now we are upon this subject, I'll tell you why I was so averse.

We people of fortune, or such as are born to large expectations, of both sexes, are generally educated wrong. You have occasionally touched upon this, Pamela, several times in your journal, so justly, that I need say the less to you. We are usually so headstrong, so violent in our wills, that we very little bear control.

Humoured by our nurses, through the faults of our parents, we practise first upon them; and shew the gratitude of our dispositions, in an insolence that ought rather to be checked and restrained, than encouraged.

Next, we are to be indulged in every thing at school; and our masters and mistresses are rewarded with further grateful instances of our boisterous behaviour.

But, in our wise parents' eyes, all looks well, all is forgiven and excused; and for no other reason, but because we are theirs.

Our next progression is, we exercise our spirits, when brought home, to the torment and regret of our parents themselves, and torture their hearts by our undutiful and perverse behaviour to them, which, however ungrateful in us, is but the natural consequence of their culpable indulgence to us, from infancy upwards.

And then, next, after we have, perhaps, half broken their hearts, a wife is looked out for: convenience, or birth, or fortune, are the first motives, affection the last (if it is at all consulted): and two people thus educated, thus trained up, in a course of unnatural ingratitude, and who have been headstrong torments to every one who has had a share in their education, as well as to those to whom they owe their being, are brought together; and what can be expected, but that they should pursue, and carry on, the same comfortable conduct in matrimony, and join most heartily to plague one another? And, in some measure, indeed, this is right; because hereby they revenge the cause of all those who have been aggrieved and insulted by them, upon one another.

The gentleman has never been controlled: the lady has never been contradicted.

He cannot bear it from one whose new relation, he thinks, should oblige her to shew a quite contrary conduct.

She thinks it very barbarous, now, for the first time, to be opposed in her will, and that by a man from whom she expected nothing but tenderness.

So great is the difference between what they both expect from one another, and what they both find in each other, that no wonder misunderstandings happen; that these ripen to quarrels; that acts of unkindness pass, which, even had the first motive to their union been affection, as usually it is not, would have effaced all manner of tender impressions on both sides.

Appeals to parents or guardians often ensue. If, by mediation of friends, a reconciliation takes place, it hardly ever holds: for why? The fault is in the minds of both, and neither of them will think so; so that the wound (not permitted to be probed) is but skinned over, and rankles still at the bottom, and at last breaks out with more pain and anguish than before. Separate beds are often the consequence; perhaps elopements: if not, an unconquerable indifference, possibly aversion. And whenever, for appearance-sake, they are obliged to be together, every one sees, that the yawning husband, and the vapourish wife, are truly insupportable to one another; but separate, have freer spirits, and can be tolerable company.

Now, my dear, I would have you think, and I hope you will have no other reason, that had I married the first lady in the land, I would not have treated her better than I will my Pamela. For my wife is my wife; and I was the longer in resolving on the state, because I knew its requisites, and doubted my conduct in it.

I believe I am more nice than many gentlemen; but it is because I have been a close observer of the behaviour of wedded folks, and hardly ever have seen it to be such as I could like in my own case. I shall, possibly, give you instances of a more particular nature of this, as we are longer, and, perhaps, I might say, better acquainted.

Had I married with the views of many gentlemen, and with such as my good sister (supplying the place of my father and mother,) would have recommended, I had wedded a fine lady, brought up pretty much in my own manner, and used to have her will in every thing.

Some gentlemen can come into a compromise; and, after a few struggles, sit down tolerably contented. But, had I married a princess, I could not have done so. I must have loved her exceedingly well, before I had consented to knit the knot with her, and preferred her to all her sex; for without this, Pamela, indifferences, if not disgusts, will arise in every wedded life, that could not have made me happy at home; and there are fewer instances, I believe, of men's loving better, after matrimony, than of women's; the reason of which 'tis not my present purpose to account for.

Then I must have been morally sure, that she preferred me to all men; and, to convince me of this, she must have lessened, not aggravated, my failings: She must have borne with my imperfections; she must have watched and studied my temper; and if ever she had any points to carry, any desire of overcoming, it must have been by sweetness and complaisance; and yet not such a slavish one, as should make her condescension seem to be rather the effect of her insensibility, than judgment or affection.

She should not have given cause for any part of my conduct to her to wear the least aspect of compulsion or force. The word command, on my side, or obedience on hers, I would have blotted from my vocabulary. For this reason I should have thought it my duty to have desired nothing of her, that was not significant, reasonable, or just; and that then she should, on hers, have shewn no reluctance, uneasiness, or doubt, to oblige me, even at half a word.

I would not have excused her to let me twice enjoin the same thing, while I took so much care to make her compliance with me reasonable, and such as should not destroy her own free agency, in points that ought to be allowed her: And if I was not always right, that yet she would bear with me, if she saw me set upon it; and expostulate with me on the right side of compliance; for that would shew me, (supposing small points in dispute, from which the greatest quarrels, among friends, generally arise,) that she differed from me, not for contradiction-sake, but desired to convince me for my own; and that I should, another time, take better resolutions.

This would be so obliging a conduct, that I should, in justice, have doubled my esteem for one, who, to humour me, could give up her own judgment; and I should see she could have no other view in her expostulations, after her compliance had passed, than to rectify my motions for the future; and it would have been impossible then, but I must have paid the greater deference to her opinion and advice in more momentous matters.

In all companies she must have shewn, that she had, whether I deserved it altogether or not, a high regard and opinion of me; and this the rather, as such a conduct in her would be a reputation and security to herself: For if we rakes attempt a married lady, our first encouragement, exclusive of our own vanity, arises from the indifferent opinion, slight, or contempt, she expresses of her husband.

I should expect, therefore, that she should draw a kind veil over my faults; that such as she could not hide, she would extenuate; that she would place my better actions in an advantageous light, and shew that I had her good opinion, at least, whatever liberties the world took with my character.

She must have valued my friends for my sake; been cheerful and easy, whomsoever I had brought home with me; and, whatever faults she had observed in me, have never blamed me before company; at least, with such an air of superiority, as should have shewn she had a better opinion of her own judgment, than of mine.

Now, my Pamela, this is but a faint sketch of the conduct I must have expected from my wife, let her quality have been what it would; or have lived with her on bad terms. Judge then, if to me a lady of the modish taste could have been tolerable.

The perverseness and contradiction I have too often seen, in some of my visits, even among people of sense, as well as condition, had prejudiced me to the married state; and, as I knew I could not bear it, surely I was in the right to decline it: And you see, my dear, that I have not gone among this class of people for a wife; nor know I, indeed, where, in any class, I could have sought one, or had one suitable to my mind, if not you: For here is my misfortune; I could not have been contented to have been but moderately happy in a wife.

Judge you, from all this, if I could very well bear that you should think yourself so well secured of my affection, that you could take the faults of others upon yourself; and, by a supposed supererogatory merit, think your interposition sufficient to atone for the faults of others.

Yet am I not perfect myself: No, I am greatly imperfect. Yet will I not allow, that my imperfections shall excuse those of my wife, or make her think I ought to bear faults in her, that she can rectify, because she bears greater from me.

Upon the whole, I may expect, that you will bear with me, and study my temper, till, and only till, you see I am capable of returning insult for obligation; and till you think, that I shall be of a gentler deportment, if I am roughly used, than otherwise. One thing more I will add, That I should scorn myself, if there was one privilege of your sex, that a princess might expect, as my wife, to be indulged in, that I would not allow to my Pamela; for you are the wife of my affections: I never wished for one before you, nor ever do I hope to have another.

I hope, sir, said I, my future conduct—Pardon me, said he, my dear, for interrupting you; but it is to assure you, that I am so well convinced of your affectionate regard for me, that I know I might have spared the greatest part of what I have said: And, indeed, it must be very bad for both of us, if I should have reason to think it necessary to say so much. But one thing has brought on another; and I have rather spoken what my niceness has made me observe in other families, than what I fear in my own. And, therefore, let me assure you, I am thoroughly satisfied with your conduct hitherto. You shall have no occasion to repent it: And you shall find, though greatly imperfect, and passionate, on particular provocations, (which yet I will try to overcome,) that you have not a brutal or ungenerous husband, who is capable of offering insult for condescension, or returning evil for good.

I thanked him for these kind rules, and generous assurances: and assured him, that they had made so much impression on my mind, that these, and his most agreeable injunctions before given me, and such as he should hereafter be pleased to give me, should be so many rules for my future behaviour.

And I am glad of the method I have taken of making a Journal of all that passes in these first stages of my happiness, because it will sink the impression still deeper; and I shall have recourse to them for my better regulation, as often as I shall mistrust my memory.

Let me see: What are the rules I am to observe from this awful lecture? Why these:

1. That I must not, when he is in great wrath with any body, break in upon him without his leave. Well, I'll remember it, I warrant. But yet I think this rule is almost peculiar to himself.

2. That I must think his displeasure the heaviest thing that can befall me. To be sure I shall.

3. And so that I must not wish to incur it, to save any body else. I'll be further if I do.

4. That I must never make a compliment to any body at his expense.

5. That I must not be guilty of any acts of wilful meanness. There is a great deal meant in this; and I'll endeavour to observe it all. To be sure, the occasion on which he mentions this, explains it; that I must say nothing, though in anger, that is spiteful or malicious; that is disrespectful or undutiful, and such-like.

6. That I must bear with him, even when I find him in the wrong. This is a little hard, as the case may be!

I wonder whether poor Miss Sally Godfrey be living or dead!

7. That I must be as flexible as the reed in the fable, lest, by resisting the tempest, like the oak, I be torn up by the roots. Well, I'll do the best I can!—There is no great likelihood, I hope, that I should be too perverse; yet sure, the tempest will not lay me quite level with the ground, neither.

8. That the education of young people of condition is generally wrong. Memorandum; That if any part of children's education fall to my lot, I never indulge and humour them in things that they ought to be restrained in.

9. That I accustom them to bear disappointments and control.

10. That I suffer them not to be too much indulged in their infancy.

11. Nor at school.

12. Nor spoil them when they come home.

13. For that children generally extend their perverseness from the nurse to the schoolmaster: from the schoolmaster to the parents:

14. And, in their next step, as a proper punishment for all, make their ownselves unhappy.

15. That undutiful and perverse children make bad husbands and wives: And, collaterally, bad masters and mistresses.

16. That, not being subject to be controlled early, they cannot, when married, bear one another.

17. That the fault lying deep, and in the minds of each other, neither will mend it.

18. Whence follow misunderstandings, quarrels, appeals, ineffectual reconciliations, separations, elopements; or, at best, indifference; perhaps, aversion.—Memorandum; A good image of unhappy wedlock, in the words YAWNING HUSBAND, and VAPOURISH WIFE, when together: But separate, both quite alive.

19. Few married persons behave as he likes. Let me ponder this with awe and improvement.

20. Some gentlemen can compromise with their wives, for quietness sake; but he can't. Indeed I believe that's true; I don't desire he should.

21. That love before marriage is absolutely necessary.

22. That there are fewer instances of men's than women's loving better after marriage. But why so? I wish he had given his reasons for this! I fancy they would not have been to the advantage of his own sex.

23. That a woman give her husband reason to think she prefers him before all men. Well, to be sure this should be so.

24. That if she would overcome, it must be by sweetness and complaisance; that is, by yielding, he means, no doubt.

25. Yet not such a slavish one neither, as should rather seem the effect of her insensibility, than judgment or affection.

26. That the words COMMAND and OBEY shall be blotted out of the Vocabulary. Very good!

27. That a man should desire nothing of his wife, but what is significant, reasonable, just. To be sure, that is right.

28. But then, that she must not shew reluctance, uneasiness, or doubt, to oblige him; and that too at half a word; and must not be bid twice to do one thing. But may not there be some occasions, where this may be a little dispensed with? But he says afterwards, indeed,

29. That this must be only while he took care to make her compliance reasonable, and consistent with her free agency, in points that ought to be allowed her. Come, this is pretty well, considering.

30. That if the husband be set upon a wrong thing, she must not dispute with him, but do it and, expostulate afterwards. Good sirs! I don't know what to say to this! It looks a little hard, methinks! This would bear a smart debate, I fancy, in a parliament of women. But then he says,

31. Supposing they are only small points that are in dispute. Well, this mends it a little. For small points, I think, should not be stood upon.

32. That the greatest quarrels among friends (and wives and husbands are, or should be, friends) arise from small matters. I believe this is very true; for I had like to have had anger here, when I intended very well.

33. That a wife should not desire to convince her husband for CONTRADICTION sake, but for HIS OWN. As both will find their account in this, if one does, I believe 'tis very just.

34. That in all companies a wife must shew respect and love to her husband.

35. And this for the sake of her own reputation and security; for,

36. That rakes cannot have a greater encouragement to attempt a married lady's virtue, than her slight opinion of her husband. To be sure this stands to reason, and is a fine lesson.

37. That a wife should therefore draw a kind veil over her husband's faults.

38. That such as she could not conceal, she should extenuate.

39. That his virtues she should place in an advantageous light

40. And shew the world, that he had HER good opinion at least.

41. That she must value his friends for his sake.

42. That she must be cheerful and easy in her behaviour, to whomsoever he brings home with him.

43. That whatever faults she sees in him, she never blame him before company.

44. At least, with such an air of superiority, as if she had a less opinion of his judgment than her own.

45. That a man of nice observation cannot be contented to be only moderately happy in a wife.

46. That a wife take care how she ascribe supererogatory merit to herself; so as to take the faults of others upon her.

Indeed, I think it is well if we can bear our own! This is of the same nature with the third; and touches upon me, on the present occasion, for this wholesome lecture.

47. That his imperfections must not be a plea for hers. To be sure, 'tis no matter how good the women are; but 'tis to be hoped men will allow a little. But, indeed, he says,

48. That a husband, who expects all this, is to be incapable of returning insult for obligation, or evil for good; and ought not to abridge her of any privilege of her sex.

Well, my dear parents, I think this last rule crowns the rest, and makes them all very tolerable; and a generous man, and a man of sense, cannot be too much obliged. And, as I have this happiness, I shall be very unworthy, if I do not always so think, and so act.

Yet, after all, you'll see I have not the easiest task in the world. But I know my own intentions, that I shall not wilfully err; and so fear the less.

Not one hint did he give, that I durst lay hold of, about poor Miss Sally Godfrey. I wish my lady had not spoken of it: for it has given me a curiosity that is not quite so pretty in me; especially so early in my nuptials, and in a case so long ago past. Yet he intimated too, to his sister, that he had had other faults, (of this sort, I suppose,) that had not come to her knowledge!—But I make no doubt he has seen his error, and will be very good for the future. I wish it, and pray it may be so, for his own dear sake!

Wednesday, the seventh.

When I arose in the morning, I went to wait on Lady Davers, seeing her door open; and she was in bed, but awake, and talking to her woman. I said, I hope I don't disturb your ladyship. Not at all, said she; I am glad to see you. How do you do? Well, added she, when do you set out for Bedfordshire?—I said, I can't tell, madam; it was designed as to-day, but I have heard no more of it.

Sit down, said she, on the bed-side.—I find, by the talk we had yesterday and last night, you have had but a poor time of it, Pamela, (I must call you so yet, said she,) since you were brought to this house, till within these few days. And Mrs. Jewkes too has given Beck such an account, as makes me pity you.

Indeed, madam, said I, if your ladyship knew all, you would pity me; for never poor creature was so hard put to it. But I ought to forget it all now, and be thankful.

Why, said she, as far as I can find, 'tis a mercy you are here now. I was sadly moved with some part of your story and you have really made a noble defence, and deserve the praises of all our sex.

It was God enabled me, madam, replied I. Why, said she, 'tis the more extraordinary, because I believe, if the truth was known, you loved the wretch not a little. While my trials lasted, madam, said I, I had not a thought of any thing, but to preserve my innocence, much less of love.

But, tell me truly, said she, did you not love him all the time? I had always, madam, answered I, a great reverence for my master, and thought all his good actions doubly good and for his naughty ones, though I abhorred his attempts upon me, yet I could not hate him; and always wished him well; but I did not know that it was love. Indeed I had not the presumption.

Sweet girl! said she; that's prettily said: But when he found he could not gain his ends, and began to be sorry for your sufferings, and to admire your virtue, and to profess honourable love to you, what did you think?

Think! Indeed, madam, I did not know what to think! could neither hope nor believe so great an honour would fall to my lot, and feared more from his kindness, for some time, than I had done from his unkindness: And, having had a private intimation, from a kind friend, of a sham marriage, intended by means of a man who was to personate a minister, it kept my mind in too much suspense, to be greatly overjoyed at his kind declaration.

Said she, I think he did make two or three attempts upon you in Bedfordshire? Yes, madam, said I; he was very naughty, to be sure.

And here he proposed articles to you, I understand? Yes, madam, replied I; but I abhorred so much the thoughts of being a kept creature, that I rejected them with great boldness; and was resolved to die before I would consent to them.

He afterwards attempted you, I think: Did he not? O yes, madam, said I, a most sad attempt he made! and I had like to have been lost; for Mrs. Jewkes was not so good as she should have been. And so I told her ladyship that sad affair, and how I fell into fits; and that they believing me dying, forbore.—Any attempts after this base one? she said.

He was not so good as he should have been, returned I, once in the garden, afterwards; but I was so watchful, and so ready to take the alarm!

But, said she, did he not threaten you, at times, and put on his stern airs, every now and then?—Threaten, madam, replied I; yes, I had enough of that! I thought I should have died for fear several times.—How could you bear that? said she: for he is a most daring and majestic mortal! He has none of your puny hearts, but is as courageous as a lion; and, boy and man, never feared any thing. I myself, said she, have a pretty good spirit; but, when I have made him truly angry, I have always been forced to make it up with him, as well as I could: for, child, he is not one that is easily reconciled, I assure you.

But, after he had professed honourable love to you, did he never attempt you again?—No, indeed, madam, he did not. But he was a good while struggling with himself, and with his pride, as he was pleased to call it, before he could stoop so low; and considered, and considered again: and once, upon my saying but two or three words, that displeased him, when he was very kind to me, he turned me out of doors, in a manner, at an hour's warning; for he sent me above a day's journey towards my father's; and then sent a man and horse, post-haste, to fetch me back again; and has been exceedingly kind and gracious to me ever since, and made me happy.

That sending you away, said she, one hour, and sending after you the next, is exactly like my brother; and 'tis well if he don't turn you off twice or thrice before a year comes about, if you vex him: and he would have done the same by the first lady in the land, if he had been married to her. Yet has he his virtues, as well as his faults; for he is generous; nay, he is noble in his spirit; hates little dirty actions: he delights in doing good; but does not pass over a wilful fault easily. He is wise, prudent, sober, and magnanimous, and will not tell a lie, nor disguise his faults; but you must not expect to have him all to yourself, I doubt.

But I'll no more harp upon this string: You see how he was exasperated at me; and he seemed to be angry at you too; though something of it was art, I believe.

Indeed, madam, said I, he has been pleased to give me a most noble lecture; and I find he was angry with me in earnest, and that it will not be an easy task to behave unexceptionably to him: for he is very nice and delicate in his notions, I perceive; but yet, as your ladyship says, exceeding generous.

Well, said she, I'm glad thou hadst a little bit of his anger; else I should have thought it art; and I don't love to be treated with low art, any more than he; and I should have been vexed if he had done it by me.

But I understand, child, said she, that you keep a journal of all matters that pass, and he has several times found means to get at it: Should you care I should see it? It could not be to your disadvantage; for I find it had no small weight with him in your favour; and I should take great pleasure to read all his stratagems, attempts, contrivances, menaces, and offers to you, on one hand, and all your pretty counter-plottings, which he much praises; your resolute resistance, and the noble stand you have made to preserve your virtue; and the steps by which his pride was subdued, and his mind induced to honourable love, till you were made what you now are: for it must be a rare and uncommon story; and will not only give me great pleasure in reading, but will entirely reconcile me to the step he has taken: and that, let me tell you, is what I never thought to be; for I had gone a great way in bringing about a match with him and Lady Betty—; and had said so much of it, that the earl, her father, approved of it: and so did the Duke of ——, her uncle; and Lady Betty herself was not averse: and now I shall be hunted to death about it; and this has made me so outrageous as you have seen me upon the matter. But when I can find, by your writings, that your virtue is but suitably rewarded, it will be not only a good excuse for me, but for him, and make me love you. There is nothing that I would not do, said I, to oblige your ladyship; but my poor father and mother (who would rather have seen me buried quick in the earth, than to be seduced by the greatest of princes) have them in their hands at present; and your dear brother has bespoken them, when they have done reading them: but, if he gives me leave, I will shew them to your ladyship, with all my heart; not doubting your generous allowances, as I have had his; though I have treated him very freely all the way, while he had naughty views; and that your ladyship would consider them as the naked sentiments of my heart, from time to time delivered to those, whose indulgence I was sure of; and for whose sight only they were written.

Give me a kiss now, said her ladyship, for your cheerful compliance: for I make no doubt my brother will consent I shall see them, because they must needs make for your honour; and I see he loves you better than any one in the world.

I have heard, continued her ladyship, a mighty good character of your parents, as industrious, honest, sensible, good folks, who know the world; and, as I doubt not my brother's generosity, I am glad they will make no ill figure in the world's eye.

Madam, said I, they are the honestest, the lovingest, and the most conscientious couple breathing. They once lived creditably; and brought up a great family, of which I am the youngest; but had misfortunes, through their doing beyond their power for two unhappy brothers, who are both dead, and whose debts they stood bound for; and so became reduced, and, by harsh creditors, (where most of the debts were, not of their own contracting,) turned out of all; and having, without success, tried to set up a little country-school; (for my father understood a little of accounts, and wrote a pretty good hand;) forced to take to hard labour; but honest all the time; contented; never repining; and loving to one another; and, in the midst of their poverty and disappointments, above all temptation; and all their fear was, that I should be wicked, and yield to temptation for the sake of worldly riches and to God's grace, and their good lessons, and those I imbibed from my dear good lady, your ladyship's mother, it is that I owe the preservation of my innocence,—and the happy station I am exalted to.

She was pleased to kiss me again, and said, There is such a noble simplicity in thy story, such an honest artlessness in thy mind, and such a sweet humility in thy deportment, notwithstanding thy present station, that I believe I shall be forced to love thee, whether I will or not: and the sight of your papers, I dare say, will crown the work; will disarm my pride, banish my resentment on Lady Betty's account, and justify my brother's conduct; and, at the same time, redound to your own everlasting honour, as well as to the credit of our sex: and so I make no doubt but my brother will let me see them.

Worden, said my lady, I can say any thing before you; and you will take no notice of our conversation; but I see you are much touched with it: Did you ever hear any thing prettier, more unaffected, sincere, free, easy?—No, never, madam, answered she, in my life; and it is a great pleasure to see so happy a reconciliation taking place, where there is so much merit.

I said, I have discovered so much prudence in Mrs. Worden, that, as well for that, as for the confidence your ladyship places in her, I have made no scruple of speaking my mind freely before her; and of blaming my dear master while he was blameworthy, as well as acknowledging his transcendent goodness to me since; which, I am sure, exceeds all I can ever deserve. May be not, said my lady; I hope you'll be very happy in one another; and I'll now rise, and tell him my thoughts, and ask him to let me have the reading of your papers; for I promise myself much pleasure in them; and shall not grudge a journey and a visit to you, to the other house, to fetch them.

Your ladyship's favour, said I, was all I had to wish for; and if I have that, and the continuance of your dear brother's goodness to me, I shall be easy under whatever else may happen.

And so I took my leave, and withdrew; and she let me hear her say to Mrs. Worden, 'Tis a charming creature, Worden!—I know not which excels; her person, or her mind!—And so young a creature too!—Well may my brother love her!

I am afraid, my dear father and mother, I shall now be too proud indeed.

I had once a good mind to have asked her ladyship about Miss Sally Godfrey; but I thought it was better let alone, since she did not mention It herself. May be I shall hear it too soon. But I hope not. I wonder, though, whether she be living or dead.

We breakfasted together with great good temper; and my lady was very kind, and, asking my good master, he gave leave very readily, she should see all my papers, when you returned them to me; and he said, He was sure, when she came to read them, she would say, that I had well deserved the fortune I had met with: and would be of opinion, that all the kindness of his future life would hardly be a sufficient reward for my virtue, and make me amends for my sufferings.

My lady resolving to set out the next morning to return to her lord, my master ordered every thing to be made ready for his doing the like to Bedfordshire; and this evening our good neighbours will sup with us, to take leave of my lady and us.

Wednesday night.

Nothing particular having passed at dinner or supper, but the most condescending goodness, on my lady's side, to me; and the highest civilities from Mr. Peters's family, from Lady Jones, from Sir Simon's family, etc. and reciprocal good wishes all around; and a promise obtained from my benefactor, that he would endeavour to pass a fortnight or three weeks in these parts, before the winter set in; I shall conclude this day with observing, that I disposed of the money my master was so good to put into my hands, in the manner he was pleased to direct; and I gave Mrs. Jewkes hers in such a manner as highly pleased her; and she wished me, with tears, all kinds of happiness; and prayed me to forgive her all her wickedness to me, as she herself called it. I begged leave of my master to present Mrs. Worden with five guineas for a pair of gloves; which he said was well thought of.

I should have mentioned, that Miss Darnford and I agreed upon a correspondence, which will be no small pleasure to me; for she is an admirable young lady, whom I prefer to every one I have seen; and I shall, I make no doubt, improve by her letters; for she is said to have a happy talent in writing, and is well read, for so young a lady.

Saturday.

On Thursday morning my lady set out for her own seat; and my best friend and I, attended by Mr. Colbrand, Abraham, and Thomas, for this dear house. Her ladyship parted with her brother and me with great tenderness, and made me promise to send her my papers; which I find she intends to entertain Lady Betty with, and another lady or two, her intimates, as also her lord; and hopes to find, as I believe, in the reading of them, some excuse for her brother's choice.

My dearest master has been all love and tenderness on the road, as he is in every place, and on every occasion. And oh, what a delightful change was this journey, to that which, so contrary to all my wishes, and so much to my apprehensions, carried me hence to the Lincolnshire house! And how did I bless God at every turn, and at every stage!

We did not arrive here till yesterday noon. Abraham rode before, to let them know we were coming: and I had the satisfaction to find every body there I wished to see.

When the chariot entered the court-yard, I was so strongly impressed with the favour and mercies of God Almighty, on remembering how I was sent away the last time I saw this house; the leave I took; the dangers I had encountered; a poor cast-off servant girl; and now returning a joyful wife, and the mistress, through his favour, of the noble house I was turned out of; that I was hardly able to support the joy I felt in my mind on the occasion. He saw how much I was moved, and tenderly asked me, Why I seemed so affected? I told him, and lifted his dear hand to my lips, and said, O sir! God's mercies, and your goodness to me on entering this dear, dear place, are above my expression; I can hardly bear the thoughts of them!—He said, Welcome, thrice welcome, joy of my life! to your own house; and kissed my hand in return. All the common servants stood at the windows, as unseen as they could, to observe us. He took my hand, with the most condescending goodness in the world; and, with great complaisance, led me into the parlour, and kissed me with the greatest ardour. Welcome again, my dearest life! said he, a thousand times welcome to the possession of a house that is not more mine than yours!

I threw myself at his feet: Permit me, dear sir, thus to bless God, and thank you, for all his mercies and your goodness. O may I so behave, as not to be utterly unworthy; and then how happy shall I be! God give me, my dearest, said he, life and health to reward all your sweetness! and no man can be so blest as I.

Where (said he to Abraham, who passed by the door), where is Mrs. Jervis?—She bolted in: Here, good sir! said she; here, good madam! am I, waiting impatiently, till called for, to congratulate you both.—I ran to her, and clasped my arms about her neck, and kissed her; O my dear Mrs. Jervis! said I, my other dear mother! receive your happy, happy Pamela; and join with me to bless God, and bless our master, for all these great things!—I was ready to sink in her arms through excess of joy, to see the dear good woman, who had been so often a mournful witness of my distress, as now of my triumph.—Dearest madam, said she, you do me too much honour. Let my whole life shew the joy I take in your deserved good fortune, and in my duty to you, for the early instance I received of your goodness in your kind letter. O Mrs. Jervis! replied I, there all thanks are due, both from you and me: for our dear master granted me this blessing, as I may justly call it, the very first moment I begged it of him. Your goodness, sir, said she, I will for ever acknowledge; and I beg pardon for the wrong step I made in applying to my Lady Davers.—He was so good as to salute her, and said, All is over now, Mrs. Jervis; and I shall not remember you ever disobliged me. I always respected you, and shall now more and more value you, for the sake of that dear good creature, whom, with joy unfeigned, I can call my wife. God bless your honour for ever! said she; and many many happy years may ye live together, the envy and wonder of all who know you!

But where, said my dear master, is honest Longman? and where is Jonathan?—Come, Mrs. Jervis, said I, you shall shew me them, and all the good folks, presently; and let me go up with you to behold the dear apartments, which I have seen before with such different emotions to what I shall now do.

We went up; and in every room, the chamber I took refuge in, when my master pursued me, my lady's chamber, her dressing-room, Mrs. Jervis's room, not forgetting her closet, my own little bed-chamber, the green-room, and in each of the others, I blessed God for my past escapes, and present happiness; and the good woman was quite affected with the zeal and pleasure with which I made my thankful acknowledgments to the divine goodness. O my excellent lady! said she, you are still the same good, pious, humble soul I knew you; and your marriage has added to your graces, as I hope it will to your blessings.

Dear Mrs. Jervis, said I, you know not what I have gone through! You know not what God has done for me! You know not what a happy creature I am now! I have a thousand thousand things to tell you; and a whole week will be too little, every moment of it spent in relating to you what has befallen me, to make you acquainted with it all. We shall be sweetly happy together, I make no doubt. But I charge you, my dear Mrs. Jervis, whatever you call me before strangers, that when we are by ourselves you call me nothing but your Pamela. For what an ungrateful creature should I be, who have received so many mercies, if I attributed them not to the divine goodness, but assumed to myself insolent airs upon them! No, I hope I shall be, more and more thankful, as I am more and more blest! and more humble, as God, the author of all my happiness, shall more distinguish me.

We went down again to the parlour, to my dear master. Said he, Call Longman in again; he longs to see you, my dear. He came in: God bless you, my sweet lady, said he; as now, Heaven be praised, I may call you! Did I not tell you, madam, that Providence would find you out? O, Mr. Longman, said I, God be praised for all his mercies! I am rejoiced to see you; and I laid my hand on his, and said, Good Mr. Longman, how do you do?—I must always value you; and you don't know how much of my present happiness I owe to the sheets of paper, and pens and ink, you furnished me with. I hope my dear sir and you are quite reconciled.—O, madam, said he, how good you are! Why, I cannot contain myself for joy! and then he wiped his eyes; good man!

Said my master, Yes, I have been telling Longman that I am obliged to him for his ready return to me; and that I will entirely forget his appeal to Lady Davers; and I hope he'll find himself quite as easy and happy as he wishes. My dear partner here, Mr. Longman, I dare promise you, will do all she can to make you so.—Heaven bless you both together! said he. 'Tis the pride of my heart to see this! I returned with double delight, when I heard the blessed news; and I am sure, sir, said he, (mark old Longman's words,) God will bless you for this every year more and more! You don't know how many hearts you have made happy by this generous deed!—I am glad of it, said my dear master; I am sure I have made my own happy: and, Longman, though I must think you SOMEBODY, yet, as you are not a young man, and so won't make me jealous, I can allow you to wish my dear wife joy in the tenderest manner. Adad! sir, said he, I am sure you rejoice me with your favour: 'Tis what I longed for, but durst not presume. My dear, said my master, receive the compliment of one of the honestest hearts in England, that always revered your virtues!—and the good man saluted me with great respect, and said, God in Heaven bless you both! and kneeled on one knee. I must quit your presence! Indeed I must!—And away he went.

Your goodness, sir, said I, knows no bounds: O may my gratitude never find any!—I saw, said my master, when the good man approached you, that he did it with so much awe and love mingled together, that I fancied he longed to salute my angel; and I could not but indulge his honest heart. How blessed am I! said I, and kissed his hand.—And indeed I make nothing now of kissing his dear hand, as if it was my own!

When honest old Mr. Jonathan come in to attend at dinner, so clean, so sleek, and so neat, as he always is, with his silver hair, I said, Well, Mr. Jonathan, how do you do? I am glad to see you.—You look as well as ever, thank God! O, dear madam! said he, better than ever, to have such a blessed sight! God bless you and my good master!—and I hope, sir, said he, you'll excuse all my past failings. Ay, that I will, Jonathan, said he; because you never had any, but what your regard for my dear wife here was the occasion of. And now I can tell you, you can never err, because you cannot respect her too much. O sir, said he, your honour is exceeding good! I'm sure I shall always pray for you both.

After dinner, Mr. Longman coming in, and talking of some affairs under his care, he said afterwards, All your honour's servants are now happy; for Robert, who left you, had a pretty little fortune fallen to him, or he never would have quitted your service. He was here but yesterday, to inquire when you and my lady returned hither; and hoped he might have leave to pay his duty to you both. Ay, said my master, I shall be glad to see honest Robert; for that's another of your favourites, Pamela. It was high time, I think, I should marry you, were it but to engage the respects of all my family to myself.—There are, sir, said I, ten thousand reasons why I should rejoice in your goodness.

But I was going to say, said Mr. Longman, That all your honour's old servants are now happy, but one. You mean John Arnold? said my master. I do, indeed, said he, if you'll excuse me, sir. O, said I, I have had my prayer for poor John answered, as favourably as I could wish.—Why, said Mr. Longman, to be sure poor John has acted no very good part, take it altogether; but he so much honoured you, sir, and so much respected you, madam, that he would have been glad to have been obedient to both; and so was faithful to neither. But, indeed, the poor fellow's heart is almost broke, and he won't look out for any other place; and says, he must live in your honour's service, or he must die wretched very shortly. Mrs. Jervis was there when this was said: Indeed, said she, the poor man has been here every day since he heard the tidings, that have rejoiced us all; and he says, he hopes he shall yet be forgiven. Is he in the house now? said my master. He is, sir; and was here when your honour came in, and played at hide and seek to have one look at you both when you alighted; and was ready to go out of his wits for joy, when we saw your honour hand my lady in. Pamela, said my dear master, you're to do with John as you please. You have full power. Then pray, sir, said I, let poor John come in.

The poor fellow came in, with so much confusion, that I have never seen a countenance that expressed so lively a consciousness of his faults, and mingled joy and shame. How do you do, John? said I; I hope you are very well!—The poor fellow could hardly speak, and looked with awe upon my master, and pleasure upon me. Said my master, Well, John, there is no room to say any thing to a man that has so much concern already: I am told you will serve me whether I will or not; but I turn you over altogether to my spouse here: and she is to do by you as she pleases. You see, John, said I, your good master's indulgence. Well may I forgive, that have so generous an example. I was always persuaded of your honest intentions, if you had known how to distinguish between your duty to your master, and your good-will to me: You will now have no more puzzles on that account, from the goodness of your dear master. I shall be but too happy I said the poor man. God bless your honour! God bless you, madam!—I now have the joy of my soul, in serving you both; and I will make the best of servants, to my power. Well, then, John, said I, your wages will go on, as if you had not left your master: May I not say so, sir? said I. Yes, surely, my dear, replied he; and augment them too, if you find his duty to you deserves it. A thousand millions of thanks, said the poor man: I am very well satisfied, and desire no augmentation. And so he withdrew, overjoyed; and Mrs. Jervis and Mr. Longman were highly pleased; for though they were incensed against him for his fault to me, when matters looked badly for me, yet they, and all his fellow-servants, always loved John.

When Mr. Longman and Mrs. Jervis had dined, they came in again, to know if he had any commands; and my dear master, filling a glass of wine, said, Longman, I am going to toast the happiest and honestest couple in England, my dear Pamela's father and mother.—Thank you, dear sir, said I.

I think, continued he, that little Kentish purchase wants a manager; and as it is a little out of your way, Longman, I have been purposing, if I thought Mr. Andrews would accept it, that he should enter upon Hodge's farm that was, and so manage for me that whole little affair; and we will well stock the farm for him, and make it comfortable; and I think, if he will take that trouble upon him, it will be an ease to you, and a favour to me.

Your honour, said he, cannot do a better thing; and I have had some inkling given me, that you may, if you please, augment that estate, by a purchase, of equal amount, contiguous to it; and as you have so much money to spare, I can't see your honour can do better. Well, said he, let me have the particulars another time, and we will consider about it. But, my dear, added he, you'll mention this to your father, if you please.

I have too much money, Longman, continued he, lies useless; though, upon this occasion, I shall not grudge laying out as much in liveries and other things, as if I had married a lady of a fortune equal, if possible, to my Pamela's merit; and I reckon you have a good deal in hand. Yes, sir, said he, more than I wish I had. But I have a mortgage in view, if you don't buy that Kentish thing, that I believe will answer very well; and when matters are riper, will mention it to your honour.

I took with me, to Lincolnshire, said my master, upwards of six hundred guineas, and thought to have laid most of them out there: (Thank God, thought I, you did not! for he offered me five hundred of them, you know:) but I have not laid out above two hundred and fifty of them; so two hundred I left there in my escritoire; because I shall go again for a fortnight or so, before winter; and two hundred I have brought with me: and I have money, I know not what, in three places here, the account of which is in my pocket-book, in my library.

You have made some little presents, Pamela, to my servants there, on our nuptials; and these two hundred that I have brought up, I will put into your disposal, that, with some of them, you shall do here as you did there.

I am ashamed, good sir, said I, to be so costly, and so worthless! Pray, my dear, replied he, say not a word of that. Said Mr. Longman, Why, madam, with money in stocks, and one thing or another, his honour could buy half the gentlemen around him. He wants not money, and lays up every year. And it would have been pity but his honour should have wedded just as he has. Very true, Longman, said my master; and, pulling out his purse, said, Tell out, my dear, two hundred guineas, and give me the rest.—I did so. Now, said he, take them yourself, for the purposes I mentioned. But, Mr. Longman, do you, before sunset, bring my dear girl fifty pounds, which is due to her this day, by my promise; and every three months, from this day, pay her fifty pounds; which will be two hundred pounds per annum; and this is for her to lay out at her own discretion, and without account, in such a way as shall derive a blessing upon us all: for she was my mother's almoner, and shall be mine, and her own too.—I'll go for it this instant, said Mr. Longman.

When he was done, I looked upon my dear generous master, and on Mrs. Jervis, and he gave me a nod of assent; and I took twenty guineas, and said, Dear Mrs. Jervis, accept of this, which is no more than my generous master ordered me to present to Mrs. Jewkes, for a pair of gloves, on my happy nuptials; and so you, who are much better entitled to them by the love I bear you, must not refuse them.

Said she, Mrs. Jewkes was on the spot, madam, at the happy time. Yes, said my master; but Pamela would have rejoiced to have had you there instead of her. That I should, sir, replied I, or instead of any body, except my own mother. She gratefully accepted them, and thanked us both: But I don't know what she should thank me for; for I was not worth a fourth of them myself.

I'd have you, my dear, said he, in some handsome manner, as you know how, oblige Longman to accept of the like present.

Mr. Longman returned from his office, and brought me the fifty pounds, saying, I have entered this new article with great pleasure: 'To my Lady fifty pounds: to be paid the same sum quarterly.' O sir! said I, what will become of me, to be so poor in myself, and so rich in your bounty!—It is a shame to take all that your profuse goodness would heap upon me thus: But indeed it shall not be without account.—Make no words, my dear, said he: Are you not my wife? And have I not endowed you with my goods; and, hitherto, this is a very small part.

Mr. Longman, said I, and Mrs. Jervis, you both see how I am even oppressed with unreturnable obligations. God bless the donor, and the receiver too! said Mr. Longman: I am sure they will bring back good interest; for, madam, you had ever a bountiful heart; and I have seen the pleasure you used to take to dispense my late lady's alms and donations.

I'll warrant, Mr. Longman, said I, notwithstanding you are so willing to have me take large sums for nothing at all, I should affront you, if I asked you to accept from me a pair of gloves only, on account of my happy nuptials. He seemed not readily to know how to answer; and my master said, If Longman refuse you, my dear, he may be said to refuse your first favour. On that I put twenty guineas in his hand; but he insisted upon it, that he would take but five. I said, I must desire you to oblige me, Mr. Longman, or I shall think I have affronted you. Well, if I must, said he, I know what I know. What is that, Mr. Longman? said I.—Why, madam, said he, I will not lay it out till my young master's birth-day, which I hope will be within this twelvemonth.

Not expecting anything like this from the old gentleman, I looked at my master, and then blushed so, I could not hold up my head. Charmingly said, Longman! said my master, and clasped me in his arms: O, my dear life! God send it may be so!—You have quite delighted me, Longman! Though I durst not have said such a thing for the world.—Madam, said the old gentleman, I beg your pardon; I hope no offence: but I'd speak it ten times in a breath to have it so, take it how you please, as long as my good master takes it so well. Mrs. Jervis, said my master, this is an over-nice dear creature; you don't know what a life I have had with her, even on this side matrimony.—Said Mrs. Jervis, I think Mr. Longman says very well; I am sure I shall hope for it too.

Mr. Longman, who had struck me of a heap, withdrawing soon after, my master said, Why, my dear, you can't look up! The old man said nothing shocking. I did not expect it, though, from him, said I. I was not aware but of some innocent pleasantry. Why, so it was, said he, both innocent and pleasant: and I won't forgive you, if you don't say as he says. Come, speak before Mrs. Jervis. May every thing happen, sir, said I, that will give you delight!—That's my dearest love, said he, and kissed me with great tenderness.

When the servants had dined, I desired to see the maidens; and all four came up together. You are welcome home, madam, said Rachel; we rejoice all to see you here, and more to see you our lady. O my good old acquaintances, said I, I joy to see you! How do you do, Rachel? How do you all do? And I took each of them by the hand, and could have kissed them. For, said I to myself, I kissed you all, last time I saw you, in sorrow; why should I not kiss you all with joy? But I forbore, in honour of their master's presence.

They seemed quite transported with me: and my good master was pleased with the scene. See here, my lasses, said he, your mistress! I need not bid you respect her; for you always loved her; and she'll have it as much in her power as inclination to be kind to the deserving. Indeed, said I, I shall always be a kind friend to you; and your dear master has ordered me to give each of you this, that you may rejoice with me on my happiness. And so I gave them five guineas a-piece, and said, God bless you every one! I am overjoyed to see you! And they withdrew with the greatest gratitude and pleasure, praying for us both.

I turned to my dear master: 'Tis to you, dear sir, said I, next to God, who put it into your generous heart, that all my happiness is owing! That my mind thus overflows with joy and gratitude! And I would have kissed his hand; but he clasped me in his arms, and said, You deserve it, my dear: You deserve it all. Mrs. Jervis came in. Said she, I have seen a very affecting sight; you have made your maidens quite happy, madam, with your kindness and condescension! I saw them all four, as I came by the hall-door, just got up from their knees, praising and praying for you both! Dear good bodies! said I; and did Jane pray too? May their prayers be returned upon themselves, I say!

My master sent for Jonathan, and I held up all the fingers of my two hands; and my master giving a nod of approbation as he came in, I said, Well, Mr. Jonathan, I could not be satisfied without seeing you in form, as it were, and thanking you for all your past good-will to me. You'll accept of that, for a pair of gloves, on this happy occasion; and I gave him ten guineas, and took his honest hand between both mine: God bless you, said I, with your silver hairs, so like my dear father!—I shall always value such a good old servant of the best of masters!—He said, O such goodness! Such kind words! It is balm to my heart! Blessed be God I have lived to this day!—And his eyes swam in tears, and he withdrew.—My dear, said my master, you make every one happy!—O, sir, said I, 'tis you, 'tis you! And let my grateful heart always spring to my lips, to acknowledge the blessings you heap upon me.

Then in came Harry, and Isaac, and Benjamin, and the two grooms of this house, and Arthur the gardener; for my dear master had ordered them, by Mrs. Jervis, thus to be marshalled out: and he said, Where's John? Poor John was ashamed, and did not come in till he heard himself called for. I said to them, How do you do, my old friends and fellow-servants? I am glad to see you all.

My master said, I have given you a mistress, my lads, that is the joy of my heart: You see her goodness and condescension! Let your respects to her be but answerable, and she'll be proportionately as great a blessing to you all, as she is to me. Harry said, In the names of all your servants, sir, I bless your honour, and your good lady: and it shall be all our studies to deserve her ladyship's favours, as well as your honour's. And so I gave every one five guineas, to rejoice, as I said, in my happiness.

When I came to John, I said, I saw you before, John; but I again tell you, I am glad to see you. He said, he was quite ashamed and confounded. O, said I, forget every thing that's past, John!—Your dear good master will, and so will I. For God has wonderfully brought about all these things, by the very means I once thought most grievous. Let us, therefore, look forward, and be only ashamed to commit faults for the time to come: for they may not always be attended with like happy consequences.

Arthur, said my master, I have brought you a mistress that is a great gardener. She'll shew you a new way to plant beans: And never any body had such a hand at improving a sun-flower as she!—O sir, sir, said I, (but yet a little dashed,) all my improvements in every kind of thing are owing to you, I am sure!—And so I think I was even with the dear man, and yet appeared grateful before his servants. They withdrew, blessing us both, as the rest had done. And then came in the postilion, and two helpers, (for my master has both here, and at Lincolnshire, fine hunting horses; and it is the chief sport he takes delight in,) as also the scullion-boy: And I said, How do all of you? And how dost do, Tommy? I hope you're very good. Here your dear master has ordered you something a-piece, in honour of me. And my master holding three fingers to me, I gave the postilion and helpers three guineas each, and the little boy two; and bid him let his poor mother lay it out for him, for he must not spend it idly. Mr. Colbrand, Abraham, and Thomas, I had before presented at t'other house.

And when they were all gone but Mrs. Jervis, I said, And now, dearest sir, permit me, on my knees, thus to bless you, and pray for you. And oh, may God crown you with length of days, and increase of honour; and may your happy, happy Pamela, by her grateful heart, appear always worthy in your dear eyes, though she cannot be so in her own, nor in those of any others!

Mrs. Jervis, said my master, you see the excellency of this sweet creature! And when I tell you that the charms of her person, all lovely as she is, bind me not so strongly to her, as the graces of her mind; congratulate me, that my happiness is built on so stable a basis. Indeed I do, most sincerely, sir, said she: This is a happy day to me!

I stept into the library, while he was thus pouring out his kindness for me to Mrs. Jervis; and blessed God there on my knees, for the difference I now found to what I had once known in it.—And when I have done the same in the first scene of my fears, the once frightful summer-house, I shall have gone through most of my distressful scenes with gratitude; but shall never forbear thanking God in my mind, for his goodness to me in every one. Mrs. Jervis, I find, had whispered him what I had done above, and he saw me upon my knees, with my back towards him, unknown to me; but softly put to the door again, as he had opened it a little way. And I said, not knowing he had seen me, You have some charming pictures here, sir.—Yes, said he, my dear life, so I have; but none equal to that which your piety affords me; And may the God you delight to serve, bless more and more my dear angel!—Sir, said I, you are all goodness!—I hope, replied he, after your sweet example, I shall be better and better.

Do you think, my dear father and mother, there ever was so happy a creature as I? To be sure it would be very ungrateful to think with uneasiness, or any thing but compassion, of poor Miss Sally Godfrey.

He ordered Jonathan to let the evening be passed merrily, but wisely, as he said, with what every one liked, whether wine or October.

He was pleased afterwards to lead me up stairs, and gave me possession of my lady's dressing-room and cabinet, and her fine repeating-watch and equipage; and, in short, of a complete set of diamonds, that were his good mother's; as also of the two pair of diamond ear-rings, the two diamond rings, and diamond necklace, he mentioned in his naughty articles, which her ladyship had intended for presents to Miss Tomlins, a rich heiress, that was proposed for his wife, when he was just come from his travels; but which went off, after all was agreed upon on both the friends' sides, because he approved not her conversation; and she had, as he told his mother, too masculine an air; and he never could be brought to see her but once, though the lady liked him very well. He presented me also with her ladyship's books, pictures, linen, laces, etc. that were in her apartments; and bid me call those apartments mine. O give me, my good God! humility and gratitude.

Sunday night.

This day, as matters could not be ready for our appearance at a better place, we staid at home; and my dear master employed himself a good deal in his library: And I have been taken up pretty much, I hope, as I ought to be, in thankfulness, prayer and meditation, in my newly-presented closet And I hope God will be pleased to give a blessing to me; for I have the pleasure to think I am not puffed up with this great alteration; and yet am I not wanting to look upon all these favours and blessings in the light wherein I ought to receive them, both at the hands of Heaven, and my dear benefactor.

We dined together with great pleasure; and I had, in every word and action, all the instances of kindness and affection that the most indulged heart could wish. He said he would return to his closet again; and at five o'clock would come and take a walk with me in the garden: And so retired as soon as he had dined, and I went up to mine.

About six, he was pleased to come up to me, and said, Now, my dear, I will attend you for a little walk in the garden; and I gave him my hand with great pleasure.

This garden is much better cultivated than the Lincolnshire one; but that is larger, and has nobler walks in it; and yet there is a pretty canal in this, and a fountain and cascade. We had a deal of sweet conversation as we walked; and, after we had taken a turn round, I bent towards the little garden; and when I came near the summer-house, took the opportunity to slip from him, and just whipt up the steps of this once frightful place, and kneeled down, and said, I bless thee, O God! for my escapes, and for thy mercies! O let me always possess a grateful, humble heart! and I whipt down again and joined him; and he hardly missed me.

Several of the neighbouring gentry sent their compliments to him on his return, but not a word about his marriage; particularly Mr. Arthur, Mr. Towers, Mr. Brooks, and Mr. Martin of the Grove.

Monday.

I had a good deal of employment in choosing patterns for my new clothes. He thought nothing too good; but I thought every thing I saw was; and he was so kind to pick out six of the richest for me to choose three suits out of, saying, We would furnish ourselves with more in town, when we went thither. One was white, flowered with silver most richly; and he was pleased to say, that, as I was a bride, I should make my appearance in that the following Sunday. And so we shall have in two or three days, from several places, nothing but mantua-makers and tailors at work. Bless me! what a chargeable and what a worthless hussy I am to the dear gentleman!—But his fortune and station require a great deal of it; and his value for me will not let him do less, than if he had married a fortune equal to his own: and then, as he says, it would be a reflection upon him, if he did.—And so I doubt it will be, as it is: For either way the world will have something to say. He made me also choose some very fine laces, and linen; and has sent a message on purpose, with his orders, to hasten all down, what can be done in town, as the millinery matters, etc. to be completed there, and sent by particular messengers, as done. All to be here, and finished by Saturday afternoon, without fail.

I sent away John this morning, with some more of my papers to you, and with the few he will give you separate. My desire is, that you will send me all the papers you have done with, that I may keep my word with Lady Davers; to beg the continuance of your prayers and blessings; to hope you will give me your answer about my dear benefactor's proposal of the Kentish farm; to beg you to buy, two suits of clothes each; of the finest cloth for you, my dear father; and of a creditable silk for my dear mother; and good linen, and every thing answerable; and that you will, as my best friend bid me say, let us see you here as soon as possible; and he will have his chariot come for you, when you tell John the day. Oh! how I long to see you both, my dear good parents, and to share with you my felicities!

You will have, I'm sure, the goodness to go to all your creditors, which are chiefly those of my poor unhappy brothers, and get an account of all you are bound for; and every one shall be paid to the utmost farthing, and interest besides, though some of them have been very cruel and unrelenting.—But they are entitled to their own, and shall be thankfully paid.

Now I think of it, John shall take my papers down to this place; that you may have something to amuse you, of your dear child's, instead of those you part with; and I will continue writing till I am settled, and you are determined; and then I shall apply myself to the duties of the family, in order to become as useful to my dear benefactor, as my small abilities will let me.

If you think a couple of guineas will be of use to Mrs. Mumford, who, I doubt, has not much aforehand, pray give them to her, from me, (and I will return them to you,) as for a pair of gloves on my nuptials: And look through your poor acquaintances and neighbours, and let me have a list of such honest industrious poor, as may be true objects of charity, and have no other assistance; particularly such as are blind, lame, or sickly, with their several cases; and also such poor families and housekeepers as are reduced by misfortunes, as ours was, and where a great number of children may keep them from rising to a state of tolerable comfort: And I will choose as well as I can; for I long to be making a beginning, with the kind quarterly benevolence my dear good benefactor has bestowed upon me for such good purposes.

I am resolved to keep account of all these matters, and Mr. Longman has already furnished me with a vellum book of white paper; some sides of which I hope soon to fill with the names of proper objects: And though my dear master has given me all this without account, yet shall he see (but nobody else) how I lay it out, from quarter to quarter; and I will, if any be left, carry it on, like an accomptant, to the next quarter, and strike a balance four times a year, and a general balance at every year's end.—And I have written in it, Humble RETURNS for DIVINE MERCIES; and locked it up safe in my newly-presented cabinet.

I intend to let Lady Davers see no farther of my papers, than to her own angry letter to her brother; for I would not have her see my reflections upon it; and she'll know, down to that place, all that's necessary for her curiosity, as to my sufferings, and the stratagems used against me, and the honest part I have been enabled to act: And I hope, when she has read them all, she will be quite reconciled: for she will see it is all God Almighty's doings; and that a gentleman of his parts and knowledge was not to be drawn in by such a poor young body as me.

I will detain John no longer. He will tell you to read this last part first, and while he stays. And so, with my humble duty to you both, and my dear Mr. B——'s kind remembrance, I rest

Your ever-dutiful and gratefully happy DAUGHTER.

Wednesday evening.

HONOURED FATHER AND MOTHER!

I will now proceed with my journal.

On Tuesday morning, my dear sir rode out, and brought with him to dinner, Mr. Martin of the Grove, and Mr. Arthur, and Mr. Brooks, and one Mr. Chambers; and he stept up to me, and said he had rode out too far to return to breakfast; but he had brought with him some of his old acquaintance, to dine with me. Are you sorry for it, Pamela? said he. I remembered his lessons, and said No, sure, sir; I cannot be angry at any thing you are pleased to do. Said he, You know Mr. Martin's character, and have severely censured him in one of your letters, as one of my brother rakes, and for his three lyings-in.

He then gave me the following account, how he came to bring them. Said he, 'I met them all at Mr. Arthur's; and his lady asked me, if I was really married? I said, Yes, really. And to whom? said Mr. Martin. Why, replied I, bluntly, to my mother's waiting-maid. They could not tell what to say to me hereupon, and looked one upon another. And I saw I had spoiled a jest, from each. Mrs. Arthur said, You have, indeed, sir, a charming creature, as ever I saw; and she has mighty good luck. Ay, said I, and so have I. But I shall say the less, because a man never did any thing of this nature, that he did not think he ought, if it were but in policy, to make the best of it. Nay, said Mr. Arthur, if you have sinned, it is with your eyes open: for you know the world as well as any gentleman of your years in it.'

'Why, really, gentlemen, said I, I should be glad to please all my friends; but I can't expect, till they know my motives and inducements, that it will be so immediately. But I do assure you, I am exceedingly pleased myself; and that, you know, is most to the purpose.'

'Said Mr. Brooks, I have heard my wife praise your spouse that is, so much for person and beauty, that I wanted to see her of all things. Why, replied I, if you'll all go and take a dinner with me, you shall see her with all my heart. And, Mrs. Arthur, will you bear us company? No, indeed, sir, said she. What, I'll warrant, my wife will not be able to reconcile you to my mother's waiting-maid; is not that it? Tell truth, Mrs. Arthur. Nay, said she, I shan't be backward to pay your spouse a visit, in company of the neighbouring ladies; but for one single woman to go, on such a sudden motion too, with so many gentlemen, is not right. But that need not hinder you, gentlemen. So, said he, the rest sent, that they should not dine at home; and they and Mr. Chambers, a gentleman lately settled in these parts, one and all came with me: And so, my dear, concluded he, when you make your appearance next Sunday, you're sure of a party in your favour; for all that see you must esteem you.'