"O most gentle Jupiter! what tedious homily of love have
you wearied your parishioners withal, and never cried,
Have patience, good people!"
As You Like it.
THE only obstacle to her union thus removed, Mary thought she might now venture to let her Aunt Grizzy into the secret; and accordingly, with some little embarrassment, she made the disclosure of the mutual attachment subsisting between Colonel Lennox and herself. Grizzy received the communication with all the astonishment which ladies usually experience upon being made acquainted with a marriage which they had not had the prescience to foresee and foretell—or even one which they had; for, common and natural as the event seems to be, it is one which perhaps in no instance ever took place without occasioning the greatest amazement to some one individual or another; and it will also be generally found that either the good or the bad fortune of one or other of the parties is the subject of universal wonder. In short, a marriage which excites no surprise, pity, or indignation, must be something that has never yet been witnessed on the face of this round world. It is greatly to be feared none of my readers will sympathise in the feelings of the good spinster on this occasion, as she poured them forth in the following extempore or improvisatorial strain:-
"Well, Mary, I declare I'm perfectly confounded with all you have been telling me! I'm sure I never heard the like of it! It seems but the t'other day since you began your sampler; and it looks just like yesterday since your father and mother were married. And such a work as there was at your nursing! I'm sure your poor grandfather was out of all patience about it. And now to think that you are going to be married! not but what it's a thing we all expected, for there's no doubt England's the place for young women to get husbands—we always said that, you know; not but what I dare say you might have been married, too, if you had stayed in the Highlands, and to a real Highlander, too, which, of course, would have been still better for us all; for it will be a sad thing if you are obliged to stay in England, Mary; but I hope there's no chance of that: you know Colonel Lennox can easily sell his place, and buy an estate in the Highlands. There's a charming property, I know, to be sold just now, that marches with Glenfern. To be sure it's on the wrong side of the hill—there's no denying that; but then, there's I can't tell you how many thousand acres of fine muir for shooting, and I daresay Colonel Lennox is a keen sportsman; and they say a great deal of it might be very much improved. We must really inquire after it, Mary, and you must speak to Colonel Lennox about it, for you know such a property as that may be snapped up in a minute."
Mary assented to all that was said; and Grizzy proceeded—
"I wonder you never brought Colonel Lennox to see us, Mary. I'm sure he must think it very odd. To be sure, Sir Sampson's situation is some excuse; but at any rate I wonder you never spoke about him. We all found out your Aunt Bella's attachment from the very first, just from her constantly speaking about Major M'Tavish and the militia; and we had a good guess of Betsy's too, from the day her face turned so red after giving Captain M'Nab for her toast; but you have really kept yours very close, for I declare I never once suspected such a thing. I wonder if that was Colonel Lennox that I saw you part with at the door one day—tall, and with brown hair, and a bluecoat. I asked Lady Maclaughlan if she knew who it was, and she said it was Admiral Benbow; but I think she must have been mistaken, for I daresay now it was just Colonel Lennox. Lennox—I'm sure I should be able to remember something about somebody of that name; but my memory's not so good as it used to be, for I have so many things, you know, to think about, with Sir Sampson, that I declare sometimes my head's quite confused; yet I think always there's something about them. I wish to goodness Lady Maclaughlan was come from the dentist's, that I might consult her about it; for of course, you'll do nothing without consulting all your friends—I know you've too much sense for that. An here's Sir Sampson coming; it will be a fine piece of news to tell him."
Sir Sampson having been now wheeled in by the still active Philistine, and properly arranged with the assistance of Miss Grizzy, she took her usual station by the side of his easy chair, and began to shout into his ear.
"Here's my niece Mary, Sir Sampson; you remember her when she was little, I daresay—you know you used to call her the fairy of Lochmarlie; and I'm sure we all thought for long she would have been a perfect fairy, she was so little; but she's tall enough now, you see, and she's going to be married to a fine young man. None of us know him yet, but I think I must have seen him; and at any rate I'm to see him to-morrow, and you'll see him too, Sir Sampson, for Mary is to bring him to call here, and he'll tell you all about the battle of Waterloo, and the Highlanders; for he's half a Highlander too, and I'm certain he'll buy the Dhuanbog estate, and then, when my niece Mary marries Colonel Lennox—"
"Lennox!" repeated Sir Sampson, his little dim eyes kindling at the name—"Who talks of Lennox I—I—I won't suffer it. Where's my Lady? Lennox!—he's a scoundrel! You shan't marry a Lennox!" Turning to Grizzy, "Call Philistine, and my Lady." And his agitation was so great that even Grizzy, although accustomed for forty years to witness similar ebullitions, became alarmed.
"You see it's all for fear of my marrying," whispered she to Mary. "I'm sure such a disinterested attachment, it's impossible for me ever to repay it!"
Then turning to Sir Sampson, she sought to soothe his perturbation by oft-repeated assurances that it was not her but her niece Mary that was going to be married to Colonel Lennox. But in vain; Sir Sampson quivered, and panted, and muttered; and the louder Grizzy screamed out the truth the more his irritation increased. Recourse was now had to Philistine; and Mary, thoroughly ashamed of the éclat attending the disclosure of her secret, and finding she could be of no use, stole away in the midst of Miss Grizzy's endless verbiage, but as she descended the stairs she still heard the same assurance resounding—"I can assure you, Sir Sampson, it's not me, but my niece Mary that's going to be married to Colonel Lennox," etc.
On returning to Beech Park she said nothing of what had passed either to Lady Emily or Colonel Lennox—aware of the amusement it would furnish to both; and she felt that her aunt required all the dignity with which she could invest her before presenting her to her future nephew. The only delay to her marriage now rested with herself; but she was desirous it should take place under the roof which had sheltered her infancy, and sanctioned by the presence of those whom she had ever regarded as her parents. Lady Emily, Colonel Lennox, and her brother had all endeavoured to combat this resolution, but in vain; and it was therefore settled that she should remain to witness the union of her brother and her cousin, and then return to Lochmarlie. But all Mary's preconceived plans were threatened with a downfall by the receipt of the following letter from Miss Jacky:—
GLENFERN CASTLE, —-SHIRIE, June 19, 181—.
"It is impossible for language to express to you the shame, grief, amazement, and indignation, with which we are all filled at the distressing, the ignominious disclosure that has just taken place concerning you, through our most excellent friend Miss P. M'Pry. Oh, Mary, how have you deceived us all!!! What a dagger have you plunged into all our hearts! Your poor Aunt Grizzy! how my heart bleeds for her! What a difficult part has she to act! and at her time of life! with her acute feelings! with her devoted attachment to the house of M'Laughlan! What a blow! and a blow from your hand! Oh, Mary, I must again repeat, how have you deceived us all!!! Yet do not imagine I mean to reproach you! Much, much of the blame is doubtless imputable to the errors of your education! At the same time, even these offer no justification of your conduct upon the present occasion! You are now (I lament to say it!) come to that time of life when you ought to know what is right; or, where you entertain any doubts, you ought most unquestionably to apply to those who, you may be certain, are well qualified to direct you. But, instead of that, you have pursued a diametrically opposite plan: a plan which might have ended in your destruction! Oh, Mary, I cannot too often repeat, how have you deceived us all!!! From no lips but those of Miss M'Pry would I have believed what I have heard, videlicet, that you (oh, Mary!) have, for many, many months past, been carrying on a clandestine correspondence with a young man, unknown, unsuspected by all your friends here! and that young man, the very last man on the face of the earth whom you, or any of us, ought to have given our countenance to! The very man, in short, whom we were all bound, by every principle of duty, gratitude, and esteem, to have shunned, and who you are bound, from this moment, to renounce for ever. How you ever came to be acquainted with Colonel Charles Lennox of Rose Hall is a mystery none of us can fathom; but surely the person, whoever it was that brought it about, has much, much to answer for! Mrs. Douglas (to whom I thought it proper to make an immediate communication on the subject) pretends to have been well informed of all that has been going on, and even insists that your acquaintance with the Lennox family took place through Lady M'Laughlan! But that we all know to be morally impossible. Lady M'Laughlan is the very last person in the world who would have introduced you, or any young creature for whom she had the slightest regard, to a Lennox, the mortal enemy of the M'Laughlan race! I most sincerely trust she is spared the shock we have all experienced at this painful disclosure. With her high principles, and great regard for us, I tremble to think what might be the consequences! And dear Sir Sampson, in his delicate state, how would he ever be able to stand such a blow! and a blow, too, from your hand, Mary! you, who he was always like a father to! Many a time, I am sure, have you sat upon his knee, and you certainly cannot have forgot the elegant Shetland pony he presented you with the day you was five years old! And what a return for such favours!
"But I fondly trust it is not yet too late. You have only to give up this unworthy attachment, and all will be forgotten and forgiven; and we will all receive you as if nothing had happened. Oh, Mary! I must, for the last time repeat, how have you deceived us all!
"I am your distressed aunt,
P.S.—I conclude abruptly, in order to leave room for your Aunt Nicky to state her sentiments also on this most afflicting subject."
Nicky's appendix was as follows:—
"DEAR MARY—Jacky has read her letter to us. It is most excellent. We are all much affected by it. Not a word but deserves to be printed. I can add nothing. You see, if you marry Colonel L. none of us can be at your marriage. How could we? I hope you will think twice about it. Second thoughts are best. What's done cannot be undone. Yours,
Mary felt somewhat in the situation of the sleeper awakened, as she perused these mysterious anathemas; and rubbed her eyes more than once in hopes of dispelling the mist that she thought must needs be upon them. But in vain: it seemed only to increase with every effort she made to remove it. Not a single ray of light fell on the palpable obscure of Miss Jacky's composition, that could enable her to penetrate the dark profound that encompassed her. She was aware, indeed, that when her aunt meant to be pathetic or energetic she always had recourse to the longest and the strongest words she could possibly lay her hands upon; and Mary had been well accustomed to hear her childish faults and juvenile indiscretions denounced in the most awful terms as crimes of the deepest dye. Many an exordium she had listened to on the tearing of her frock, or the losing of her glove, that might have served as a preface to the "Newgate Calendar," "Colquhoun on the Police," or any other register of crimes. Still she had always been able to detect some clue to her own misdeeds; but here even conjecture was baffled, and in vain she sought for some resting-place for her imagination, in the probable misdemeanour of her lover. But even allowing all possible latitude for Jacky's pen, she was forced to acknowledge there must be some ground for her aunt to build upon. Superficial as her structures generally were, like children's card-houses, they had always something to rest upon; though (unlike them) her creations were invariably upon a gigantic scale.
Mary had often reflected with surprise that, although Lady Maclauglan had been the person to introduce her to Mrs. Lennox, no intercourse had taken place between the families themselves; and when she had mentioned them to each other Mrs. Lennox had only sighed, and Lady Maclaughlan had humphed. She despaired of arriving at the knowledge of the truth from her aunts. Grizzy's brain was a mere wisp of contradictions; and Jacky's mind was of that violent hue that cast its own shade upon every object that came in contact with it. To mention the matter to Colonel Lennox was only to make the relations ridiculous; and, in short, although it was a formidable step, the result of her deliberation was to go to Lady Maclaughlan, and request a solution of her aunt's dark sayings. She therefore departed for Milsom Street, and, upon entering the drawing-room, found Grizzy alone, and evidently in even more than usual perturbation.
"Oh, Mary!" cried she, as her niece entered, "I'm sure I'm thankful you're come. I was just wishing for you. You can't think how much mischief your yesterday's visit has done. It's a thousand pities, I declare, that ever you said a word about your marriage to Sir Sampson. But of course I don't mean to blame you, Mary. You know you couldn't help it; so don't vex yourself, for you know that will not make the thing any better now. Only if Sir Sampson should die—to be sure I must always think it was that that killed him; and I'm sure it at will soon kill me too-such a friend—oh, Mary!" Here a burst of grief choked poor Miss Grizzy's utterance.
"My dear aunt," said Mary, "you certainly must be mistaken. Sir Sampson seems to retain no recollection of me. It is therefore impossible that I could cause him any pain or agitation."
"Oh certainly!" said Grizzy. "There's no doubt Sir Sampson has quite forgot you, Mary—and no wonder-with your being so long away; but I daresay he'll come to know you yet. But I'm sure I hope to goodness he'll never know you as Mrs. Lennox, Mary. That would break his heart altogether; for you know the Lennoxes have always been the greatest enemies of the Maclaughlans,—and of course Sir Sampson can't bear anybody of the name, which is quite natural. And it was very thoughtless in me to have forgot that till Philistine put me in mind of it, and poor Sir Sampson has had a very bad night; so I'm sure I hope, Mary, you'll never think any more about Colonel Lennox; and, take my word for it, you'll get plenty of husbands yet. Now, since there's a peace, there will be plenty of fine young officers coming home. There's young Balquhadan, a captain, I know, in some regiment; and there's Dhalahulish, and Lochgrunason, and—" But Miss Grizzy's ideas here shot out into so many ramifications upon so many different branches of the county tree, that it would be in vain for any but a true Celt to attempt to follow her.
Mary again tried to lead her back to the subject of the Lennoxes, in hopes of being able to extract some spark of knowledge from the dark chaos of her brain.
"Oh, I'm sure, Mary, if you want to hear about that, I can tell you plenty about the Lennoxes; or at any rate about the Maclaughlans, which is the same thing. But I must first find my huswife."
To save Miss Grizzy's reminiscence, a few words will suffice to clear up the mystery. A family feud of remote origin had long subsisted between the families of Lennox and Maclaughlan, which had been carefully transmitted from father to son, till the hereditary brand had been deposited in the breast of Sir Sampson. By the death of many intervening heirs General Lennox, then a youth, was next in succession to the Maclaughlan estate; but the power of alienating it was vested in Sir Sampson, as the last remaining heir of the entail. By the mistaken zeal of their friends both were, at an early period, placed in the same regiment, in the hope that constant as association together would quickly destroy their mutual prejudices, and produce a reconciliation. But the inequalities were too great ever to assimilate. Sir Sampson possessed a large fortune, a deformed person, and a weak, vain, irritable mind. General (then Ensign) Lennox had no other patrimony than his sword—a handsome person, high spirit, and dauntless courage. With these tempers, it may easily be conceived that a thousand trifling events occurred to keep alive the hereditary animosity. Sir Sampson's mind expected from his poor kinsman a degree of deference and respect which the other, so far from rendering, rather sought opportunities of showing his contempt for, and of thwarting and ridiculing him upon every occasion, till Sir Sampson was obliged to quit the regiment. From that time it was understood that all bearing the name of Lennox were for ever excluded from the succession to the Maclaughlan estates; and it was deemed a sort of petty treason even to name the name of a Lennox in presence of this dignified chieftain.
Many years had worn away, and Sir Sampson had passed through the various modifications of human nature, from the "mewling infant" to "mere oblivion," without having become either wiser or better. His mind remained the same—irascible and vindictive to the last. Lady Maclaughlan had too much sense to attempt to reason or argue him out of his prejudices, but she contrived to prevent him from ever executing a new entail. She had known and esteemed both General and Mrs. Lennox before her marriage with Sir Sampson, and she was too firm and decided in her predilections ever to abandon them; and while she had the credit of sharing in all her husband's animosity, she was silently protecting the lawful rights of those who had long ceased to consider them as such. General Lennox had always understood that he and his family were under Sir Sampson's ban, and he possessed too high a spirit ever to express a regret, or even allude to the circumstances. It had therefore made a very faint impression on the minds of any of his family, and in the long lapse of years had been almost forgot by Mrs. Lennox, till recalled by Lady Maclaughlan's letter. But she had been silent on the subject to Mary; for she could not conceal from herself that her husband had been to blame—that the heat and violence of his temper had often led him to provoke and exasperate where mildness and forbearance would have soothed and conciliated, without detracting from his dignity; but her gentle heart shrank from the task of unnecessarily disclosing the faults of the man she had loved; and then she heard Mary talk with rapture of the wild beauties of Lochmarlie, she had only sighed to think that the pride and prejudice of others had alienated the inheritance of her son.
But all this Mary was still in ignorance of, for Miss Grizzy had gone completely astray in the attempt to trace the rise and progress of the Lennox and Maclaughlan feud. Happily Lady Maclauglan's entrance extricated her from her labyrinth, as it as the signal for her to repair to Sir Sampson. Mary, in some little confusion, was beginning to express to her Ladyship regret at hearing that Sir Sampson had been so unwell, when she was stopped.
"My dear child, don't learn to tell lies. You don't care two pence for Sir Sampson. I know all. You are going to be married to Charles Lennox. I'm glad of it. I wished you to marry him. Whether you'll thank me for that twenty years hence, I can't tell—you can't tell—he can't tell—God knows—humph! Your aunts will tell you he is Beelzebub, because his father said he could make a Sir Sampson out of a mouldy lemon. Perhaps he could. I don't know but your aunts are fools. You know what fools are, and so do I. There are plenty of fools in the world; but if they had not been sent for some wise purpose they wouldn't have been here; and since they are here they have as good a right to have elbow-room in the world as the wisest. Sir Sampson hated General Lennox because he laughed at him; and if Sir Sampson had lived a hundred years ago, his hatred might have been a fine thing to talk about now. It is the same passion that makes heroes of your De Montforts, and your Manuels, and your Corsairs, and all the rest of them; but they wore cloaks and daggers, and these are the supporters of hatred. Everybody laughs at the hatred of a little old man in a cocked hat. You may laugh too. So now, God bless you! Continue as you are, and marry the man you like, though the world should set its teeth against you. 'Tis not every woman can be trusted to do that—farewell!" And with a cordial salute they parted.
Mary was too well accustomed to Lady Maclaughlan's style not to comprehend that her marriage with Colonel Lennox was an event she had long wished for and now most warmly sanctioned; and she hastened home to convey the glad tidings in a letter to her aunts, though doubtful if the truth itself would be able to pierce its way through their prejudices.
Another stroke of palsy soon rendered Sir Sampson unconscious even to the charms of Grizzy's conversation, and as she was no longer of use to him, and was evidently at a loss how to employ herself, Mary proposed that she should accompany her back to Lochmarlie, to which she yielded a joyful assent. Once convinced of Lady Maclaughlan's approbation of her niece's marriage she could think and talk of nothing else.
Some wise individuals have thought that most people act from the inspiration of either a good or an evil power: to which class Miss Grizzy belonged would have puzzled the most profound metaphysician to determine. She was, in fact, a Maclaughlanite; but to find the root of Maclaughlan is another difficulty—thought is lost.
Colonel Lennox, although a little startled at his first introduction to his future aunt, soon came to understand the naiveté of her character; and his enlarged mind and good temper made such ample allowance for her weaknesses, that she protested, with tears in her eyes, she never knew the like of him—she never could think enough of him. She wished to goodness Sir Sampson was himself again, and could only see him; she was sure he would think just as she did, etc. etc. etc.
The day of Lady Emily's marriage arrived, and found her in a more serious mood than she had hitherto appeared in; though it seemed doubtful whether it was most occasioned by her own prospects or the thoughts of parting with Mary, who with Aunt Grizzy, was to set off for Lochmarlie immediately after witnessing the ceremony. Edward and his bride would fain have accompanied her; but Lord Courtland was too much accustomed to his daughter and amused by his nephew to bear their absence, and they therefore yielded the point, though with reluctance. "This is all for want of a little opposition to have braced my nerves," said Lady Emily, as she dropped a few tears. "I verily believe I should have wept outright had I not happily descried Dr. Redgill shrugging his shoulders at me; that has given a filip to my spirits. After all, 'tis perhaps a foolish action I've committed. The icy bonds of matrimony are upon me already; I feel myself turning into a fond, faithful, rational, humble, meek-spirited wife! Alas! I must now turn my head into a museum, and hang up all my smart sayings inside my brain, there to petrify, as warnings to all pert misses. Dear Mary! if ever I am good for anything, it will be to you I owe it!"
Mary could only embrace her cousin in silence, as she parted from her brother and her with the deepest emotion, and, assisted by Colonel Lennox (who was to follow), took her station by the side of her aunt.
"I wish you a pleasant journey, Miss Mary," cried Dr. Redgill. "The game season is coming on, and—" But the carriage drove off; and the rest of the sentence was dispersed by the wind; and all that could be collected was, "grouse always acceptable—friends at a distance—roebuck stuffed with heather carries well at all times," etc. etc.
To one less practised in her ways, and less gifted with patience, the eternal babbling of Aunt Grizzy as a travelling companion would have occasioned considerable ennui, if not spleen. There are perhaps few greater trials of temper than that of travelling with a person who thinks it necessary to be actively pleasant, without a moment's intermission, from the rising till the setting sun. Grizzy was upon this fatal plan, the rock of thousands! Silence she thought synonymous with low spirits; and she talked, and wondered, and exclaimed incessantly, and assured Mary she need not be uneasy, she was certain Colonel Lennox would follow very soon; she had not the least doubt of that. She would not be surprised if he Was to be at Lochmarlie almost as soon as themselves; at any rate very soon after them.
But even these little torments were forgot by Mary when she found herself again in her native land. The hills, the air, the waters, the people, even the peat-stacks, had a charm that touched her heart, and brought tears into her eyes as they pictured home. But her feelings arose to rapture when Lochmarlie burst upon her view in all the grandeur, beauty, and repose of a setting sun, shedding its farewell rays of gold and purple, and tints of such matchless hue, as no pencil ere can imitate—no poet's pen describe. Rocks, woods, hills, and waters, all shone with a radiance that seemed of more than earthly beauty. "Oh, there are moments in life, keen, blissful, never to be forgotten!" and such was the moment to Mary when the carriage stopped, and she again heard the melody of that voice familiar from infancy—and looked on the face known with her being—and was pressed to that heart where glowed a parent's love!
When Mary recovered from the first almost agonising transports of joy, she marked with delight the increased animation and cheerfulness visible in Mrs. Douglas. All the livelier feelings of her warm heart had indeed been excited and brought into action by the spirit and playfulness of her little boy, and the increased happiness of her husband; while all her uneasiness respecting her former lover was now at an end. She had heard from himself that he had married, and was happy. Without being guilty of inconstancy, such are the effects of time upon mutable human nature!
Colonel Lennox lost no time in arriving to claim his promised bride; and Mary's happiness was complete when she found her own choice so warmly approved of by the friends she loved.
The three aunts and their unmarried nieces, now the sole inhabitants of Glenfern Castle, were not quite decided in their opinions at first. Miss Jacky looked with a suspicious eye upon the mortal enemy of the Maclaughlan race; but, upon better acquaintance, his gaiety and good-humour contrived to charm asleep even her good sense and prejudices, and she pronounced him to be a pleasant, well-informed young man, who gave himself no airs, although he certainly had rather a high look.
Nicky doubted, from his appearance, that he would be nice, and she had no patience with nice men; but Nicky's fears vanished when she saw, as she expressed it, "how pleasantly he ate the sheep's head, although he had never seen one in his life before."
The younger ladies thought Captain M'Nab had a finer complexion, and wondered whether Colonel Lennox (like him) would be dressed in full regimentals at his marriage.
But, alas! "all earthly good still blends itself with harm," for on the day of Mary's marriage—a day consecrated to mirth, and bride-cake, and wedding favors, and marriage presents, and good cheer, and reels, and revelry, and bagpipes—on that very day, when the marriage ceremony was scarcely over, arrived the accounts of the death of Sir Sampson Maclaughlan! But on this joyous day even Grizzy's tears did not flow so freely as they would have done at another time; and she declared that although it was impossible anybody could feel more than she did, yet certainly it would not be using Colonel and Mrs. Lennox well to be very distressed upon such an occasion; and there was no doubt but she would have plenty of time to be sorry about it yet, when they were all sitting quietly by themselves, with nothing else in their heads; though, to be sure, they must always think what a blessing it was that Colonel Lennox was to succeed.
"I wish he may ever fill Sir Sampson's shoes!" said Miss Nicky, with a sigh.
"Colonel Lennox cannot propose a better model to himself than Sir Sampson Maclaughlan," said Miss Jacky. "He has left him a noble example of propriety, frugality, hospitality, and respectability; and, above all, of forgiveness of his mortal enemies."
"Oh, Mary!" exclaimed Miss Grizzy, as they were about to part with their niece, "what a lucky creature you are! Never, I am sure, did any young person set out in life with such advantages. To think of your succeeding to Lady Maclaughlan's laboratory, all so nicely fitted up with every kind of thing, and especially plenty of the most charming bark, which, I'm sure, will do Colonel Lennox the greatest good, as you know all officers are much the better of bark. I know it was the saving of young Ballingall's life, when he came home in an ague from some place; and I'm certain Lady Maclaughlan will leave you everything that is there, you was always such a favourite. Not but what I must always think that you had a hand in dear Sir Sampson's death. Indeed, I have no doubt of it. Yet, at the same time, I don't mean to blame you in the least; for I'm certain, if Sir Sampson had been spared, he would have been delighted, as we all are, at your marriage."
Colonel and Mrs. Lennox agreed in making choice of Lochmarlie for their future residence; and in a virtuous attachment they found as much happiness as earth's pilgrims ever possess, whose greatest felicity must spring from a higher source. The extensive influence which generally attends upon virtue joined to prosperity was used by them for its best purposes. It was not confined either to rich or poor, to caste or sect; but all shared in their benevolence whom that benevolence could benefit. And the poor, he sick, and the desolate, united in blessing what heaven had already blessed—this happy Marriage.
THE END.