Juliet, thus escaped from the eminent and terrific dangers to which she had been exposed, entered the farm-house with a glowing delight diffused over her countenance, that instinctively communicated a participating pleasure to the people of the farm; and caused her to be received with an hospitality that might have contented the expectations of an old friend.

Nothing so unfailingly ensures, or rather creates a welcome, as cheerfulness; cheerfulness! so beautifully, by Addison, called an Hymn to the Divinity! Whether it be, that the view of sprightliness seems the fore-runner of pleasure to ourselves; or whether we judge all within to be innocent, where all without is serene; various, according to sentiment, or circumstance, as may be the motive, the result is nearly universal; that those who approach us with cheerfulness, are sure to be met with kindness. Cheerfulness is as distinct from insipid placidity as from buoyant spirits; it seems to indicate a disposition of thankful enjoyment for all that can be attained of good, blended with resignation upon principle to all that must be endured of evil.

Her first care was to satisfy her two still wondering conductors, who proved to be sons to the master of the farm, by giving to each half-a-crown; that they might not lose their time, she told them, by waiting till she had settled her business with their father: and, after doubling her caresses to her protector, Dash, she sent them back to their work; manifestly glad that they had not affronted a young woman, who knew how to behave herself, they said, so handsomely.

She now begged an audience of the farmer, to whom she resolved to communicate her alarming adventure at the hut.

The farmer, who was surrounded by his family and his labourers, to whom he was issuing orders, desired her to speak out at once.

Juliet could by no means consent to publish so dark and uncertain a history to so many hearers; she again, therefore, entreated to address him in private.

He had come home, he answered, only to take a mug of beer; for the plough was in the field: however, she might call again, if she would, at dinner-time; but he had no time to give to talk in a morning.

And forth he went, whistling, and hallooing after his labourers, as he jogged his way.

She then applied to his bustling, sturdy wife; but with no better success; who was to feed the poultry? who was to give the wash to the pigs? who was to churn the butter? if she threw away her time by gossipping in the morning?

The rest of the family consisted of three grown up daughters, and four or five children. The daughters, though more civil, because less voluntarily busy, and, as yet, less interested than their parents, were too inexperienced to give any assistance, or form any judgment upon such an affair; Juliet, therefore, who was sinking with fatigue and emptiness, and who desired nothing so much as to remain for some time under any safe roof, begged, of the young women, a bason of bread and milk for her breakfast; and permission to stay at the farm till the hour of dinner.

These requests were granted without the smallest demur, even before she produced her purse; which they viewed with no small surprize, saying that they hoped they were not so near, as to take money for a little bread and milk of a traveller; but that, if she must needs do it, she might give a small matter to the children.

Recollecting, now, her rustic and ordinary garb, and fearing to awaken suspicion, or curiosity, she put a penny a-piece into the hands of two little boys and a girl.

It was then that she saw how far she was removed from the capital; in the precincts of which the poor and the labourer are almost constantly rapacious, or necessitous. The high price to be obtained, there, for whatever is marketable, makes generosity demand too great a sacrifice, save from the exalted few; who, still in all places, and in all classes, are, by the candid observer, occasionally, to be found. But in this obscure hamlet, where plenty was not bribed away to sale, this little donation was received with as much amazement as joy; and the children scampered to the dairy, and to the plough-field, to shew it first to mammy, and then to dad.

Juliet, having taken her simple repast, strolled into a small meadow, just without the farm-yard; where she seated herself upon a style, to enjoy, at once, the fragrant air, and personal repose.

The prospect here, though less sublime in itself, and less exalting in the ideas which it inspired, than that of the lonely and majestic beauty, which had so powerfully charmed her, visually and intellectually, in the midst of the New Forest; was yet gay, varied, verdant and lovely. On the opposite side of a winding and picturesque road, by which the greater part of the hedge around the meadow was skirted, was situated a small Gothic church; of which the steeple was nearly over-run with ivy, and the porch, half sunk into the ground, from the ravages of time and of neglect; wearing, all together, the air of a venerable ruin. Further on, and built upon a gentle acclivity, stood a clean white cottage, evidently appropriated to the instruction of youth, or rather childhood; to which sundry little boys and girls, each with a book, or with needle-work, in his hand, were trudging with anxious speed. Juliet spoke to each of them as they passed; pleased with their innocent prattle, and gathering alternately, from their native intelligence, or gaping stupidity, food to amuse her mind, with predictions of their future characters. Sheep were browsing upon a distant heath; cows were watering in a neighbouring stream; and two beautiful colts were prancing and skipping, with all the bounding vigour of untamed liberty, in the meadow. Geese, turkies, cocks and hens, ducks and pigs, peopled the farm-yard; keeping up an almost constant chorus of rural noises; which, at first, stunned her ears, but which, afterwards, entertained her fancy, by drawing her observation to their various habits and ways. The children came, jumping, to play around her; and her friend Dash, discovering her retreat, frequently left the wood-cutters to bound forwards, and court her caresses.

The young women of the house, to divert their several labours of weeding, churning, or washing, occasionally, also, joined her, for the pleasure of a little chat; which they by no means, like their father or mother, held in contempt. Juliet received them with an urbanity that gave such a zest to their little visits, that it served to quicken their work, that they might quicken their return; and, with the eldest, she changed the bonnet of Debby Dyson, for one that was plainer, and yet more coarse.

There was nothing in these young persons of sufficient 'mark or likelihood' to make them attractive to Juliet; but she was glad to earn their good will; and not sorry to learn what were their occupations; conscious that a dearth of useful resources, was a principal cause, in adversity, of FEMALE DIFFICULTIES.

Here, then, Juliet formed a project to rest, till her own should be removed; or, at least, till she could obtain some intelligence, that might guide her uncertain steps: this seemed the spot upon which she might find repose; this seemed the juncture for enjoying quiet and tranquility in the country life; to which she desired to devote the residue of the time that might still be destined to suspense.—Here, retirement would be soothing, and even seclusion supportable, from the charm of the scenery, the beauty of the walks, the guileless characters, and vivifying activity of the inhabitants of the farm-house; and the fragrant serenity of all around. Here, peace and plenty were the result of industry; and primitive, though not polite hospitality, was the offspring of natural trust. If there was no cultivation, there was no art; if there was no refinement, there were integrity and good will.

She applied, therefore, to her new young acquaintances, to promote her plan with their parents. They lost not a moment in making the arrangement; and Juliet was immediately installed in a small chamber, upon the attic-story. She settled that she should eat from their table, but alone; for she dreaded remark or discovery. No terms were fixed; a little matter, they said, would suffice; and Juliet saw that she had nothing to fear from imposition; every face in the family bearing the mark, or the promise, of steady honesty.

Nor, indeed, could any price be exorbitant to Juliet, that could procure some relief to her fears, and some respite from her toils. Her first care was to obtain, through her new friends, implements for writing; and then to transmit, in detail, assurances of her present safety, and even comfort, to Gabriella; from whom she entreated intelligence, whether pursuit and enquiry were still active.

As fearful, now, of the name of Ellis, as, heretofore, she had been of that of Granville, she desired that the answer might be directed, under cover to 'Master Simmers, Farmer, at ——, near the New Forest;' and that the enclosed letter might have no other address than, 'For the young Woman who lodges at the Farm.'

Again, then, she returned to the meadow, which, now her mind was more at ease, seemed adorned with added verdure, freshness, and beauty. Here, pensive, yet not without consolation, she past the day.

The next, she rambled a few paces further, and found out a cottage, in a situation of the most romantic loveliness, in which two labourers, and their wives, resided with their mother; a cheerful, pleasing old woman, with whom Juliet was immediately in amity.

She visited, also, the school; made acquaintance with its mistress, who appeared to be a sensible and worthy woman; and captivated the easy hearts of the little scholars, by the playful manner in which she noticed their occupations, encouraged their diligence, and assisted them to learn their lessons.

She aided, also, the young women of the farm, in various of the lighter domestic offices that fell to their share; and amused, at once, and instructed her own mind, by opening a new road for admiration of the wondrous works of the Great Creator, in observing and studying the various animals abounding in and about the farm. The remark and attention of a few days, sufficed to shew her, not only as much difference in the interiour nature of the four-footed and of the plumaged race, as there is in their hides or their feathers; but nearly, or, perhaps, quite as much diversity, in their dispositions, as in those of their haughty human masters; though the means of manifestation bore no comparison. In fixing her attention upon them, in following their motions, and considering their actions; she found that though the same happy instinct guided them all alike to self-preservation, the degrees of skill with which they discovered the shortest and best method for attaining what they coveted, were infinite; yet not more striking than the variety of their humours; kind, complying, generous; or fierce, selfish, and gloomy, in their intercourse with one another. Le droit du plus fort, (the right of strength,) though the most ordinary, was by no means the only, or the universal basis of animal legislation. Dexterity and sagacity find ascendance wherever there is animation: and propensities benign and social, or malignant and savage, as palpably distinguish beast from beast, and bird from bird, as man from his fellow.

What an inexhaustible source was here, to a thinking being, both for information and entertainment! Oh Providence Divine! she cried, how minute is the perfection, yet how grand the harmony of thy works!

Still, however, she sought vainly to obtain the requested conference. The farmer, whose thoughts were absorbed exclusively in the interests of his farm, was always too busy to afford her any time, and too indifferent to give her any attention. As she lodged in the house, he could hear her, he said, when he should be more at leisure; and all her eloquence was ineffectual, either to awaken his curiosity, or to excite his benevolence, by intimations of the importance, or of the haste, of the business which she wished to communicate. 'Ay, girl, ay,' he would reply; 'by and by will do just as well.'

But by and by came not! When she endeavoured to catch a moment, at the hour of breakfast, the whole day, he would cry, was as good as thrown away, if a man lost a moment of his morning: yet if she solicited his hearing in the evening, he would cordially offer her some bread and cheese, and beer; but rise from them himself, heavy and sleepy, to go to bed; saying, 'Hark y', my girl; when you've worked as hard as a farmer, you'll be as glad of your night's rest.'

If she sought him in the middle of the day, he was always surrounded by his family, and by labourers, from whom he would never step apart; telling her to speak out what she had to say, and to fear nothing and nobody.

Farming, she soon found, he regarded as the only art of life worth cultivation, or even worth attention; every other seemed to him superfluous or silly. A woman, therefore, as she could neither plough the field, nor mow the corn, he considered as every way an inferiour being: and, like the savages of uncivilised nature, he would scarcely have allowed a female a place at his board, but for the mitigation given to his contempt, from regarding her as the mother of man.

The sex, therefore, of Juliet, was here wholly against her; and youth and beauty, those powerful combatants of misanthropy! were necessarily without influence, where they were never looked at: Could they ripen his corn? or make his hay? No; What then, was their value?

Nevertheless, he treated neither his wife nor his daughters ill; he only considered them as his servants: and when they were diligent and useful, he praised them and gave them presents; and, when their work was done, suffered them to seek what diversion they pleased, without interference or controul. The females were indifferent, and therefore contented; though neither confidential nor affectionate.

The sons, on the contrary, were open, boisterous, and daring; domineering over their sisters, and mocking their mother; while they nearly shared, with their partial father, both his authority and his profits.

In a family such as this, Juliet had no chance of softening the languor of her suspense by society; and books, its best substitute, had never found their way into the farm-house; save an odd volume or two of trials, sundry tracts upon farriery, and various dismal old ballads.

The first charm of this rural residence, consisting in its views and its walks, soon lost something of its animation to Juliet, through the restriction of fear, which impeded her from roving beyond the neighbourhood of the farm. And though the beautiful prospect from the meadow, and the air and exercise of mounting to the school, might permanently have afforded her delight, if shared with some loved friend, or enjoyed with some good author; she became, in a short time, through the total deprivation of either, nearly as languid from monotony without, as she was wearied by ungenial intercourse within.

On Sunday, after they had all been to church, the young women proposed to accompany her in a stroll; and the hope of a romantic ramble without danger, induced her acceptance of the invitation. This, however, was an essay which she did not feel tempted to repeat. She found that their only idea of taking a stroll, was to get away from home; and their only object of pursuit, was to encounter their several sweethearts. They walked not for exercise; they had more than enough in their daily occupations. They walked not for air; they rarely spent an hour of the day under shelter. They walked still less in search of rural views, or picturesque beauties; they saw them not; or, rather, they saw them too constantly to heed them. Their chosen scene was the high road; along which they leisurely, but merrily sauntered, to enjoy,—not the verdure of the adjacent fields, or wood; not the freshness of the salubrious breeze; not the charm, here and there occasionally bursting upon the sight, of sloping hills, or flowery dales; but to watch for every distant cloud of rising dust, that announced, or that promised the approach of a horse, cart, or waggon.

What, to these, was the pleasure of situation? Juliet saw, with concern, that all which, to herself, would have solaced a similar way of life, to them was null. Accustomed from their infancy to beautiful scenery, they looked at it as a thing of course, without pleasure or admiration; because without that which fixes all worldly acceptation of happiness,—comparison.

The mother, whose existence, from the fear and from the commands of her husband, was laborious; and, from her own love of saving, penurious; had scarcely even any idea of pleasure, beyond what accrued from feeding her rabbits, fattening her hogs, and carrying her eggs and poultry to a good market.

The farmer, whose will had no controul, either from himself or his family; and who indulged his own humours in the same proportion that he kept theirs in awe, had yet a master; and a master more despotic and ungovernable than himself,—the Weather! to whose power, however, he by no means submitted tamely. The whole house rang with the violence of his rage, if the rain fell while his hay were cutting or stacking; and he could scarcely swallow his dinner for chagrin, if it failed to fall when his peas wanted filling: his imprecations were those of a man provoked by the grossest personal injury, if a sharp wind came not at his bidding, when he perceived insects crawling upon the leaves of his fruit-trees in the orchard; and his whole family trembled, as if immediate ruin, or an earthquake were impending, when he claimed, and claimed in vain, the sun to ripen his corn.

Juliet now found, that a farmer is sensible to no happiness, that a gust of wind, a shower of rain, or the beams of the sun; as they meet, or oppose, his wishes; does not confirm, or may not destroy.

The storms, nevertheless, raised by this man of the elements, were from causes too obvious to create surprize; and they were known to be too harmless in their operations, to occasion any other movement in his household, than that of a general struggle which should first get out of his way till they were blown over: but, to a stranger, to Juliet, they were more tremendous, because as foreign to the habits of her life, as they were ungenial to her nature. To change therefore, a scene so continually overcast, she took leave of the family, thankfully repaying the services which she had received; and left the farm, to lodge herself with the pleasing old woman, who had won her favour, in the beautifully picturesque cottage in the neighbourhood.