year was completed, a beautiful little creature made her appearance, as if to give them the earliest opportunity of fulfilling Lucy's vow. Be assured it was named Maria. In the course of time, they were surrounded by others of both sexes, whom Agnes was delighted to carry about one after the other, calling them little rogues, and loading them with kisses. They were all taught to read and write; "for," said Renzo, "as this notion is in the country, we may as well take advantage of it."
It was highly pleasing to hear him relate his adventures: he always concluded by naming the great things he had learnt, by which to govern his conduct for the future. "I have learnt," said he, "not to mix in quarrels; not to preach in public; not to drink more than I want; not to keep my hand on the knocker of a door, when the inhabitants of the place are all crazy; not to tie a little bell to my feet, before I think of the consequences."
"And I!" said Lucy, who thought that the doctrine of her moralist, though sound, was rather confused, and certainly incomplete—"what have I learnt?" said she. "I have not sought misfortunes, they have sought me. Unless you say," smiling affectionately, "that my error was in loving you, and promising myself to you."
They settled the question, by deciding that misfortunes most commonly happen to us from our own misconduct or imprudence; but sometimes from causes independent of ourselves; that the most innocent and prudent conduct cannot always preserve us from them; and that, whether they arise from our own fault or not, trust in God softens them, and renders them useful in preparing us for a better life. Although this was said by poor peasants, it appears to us so just, that we offer it here as the moral of our story.
THE END.
London:
Printed by A. Spottiswoode,
New-Street-Square.
