WHEN Matilda was fully recovered from the pain of her accident, her good friends had the satisfaction to perceive that the most salutary effects had arisen from the disposition with which she had borne it. She had become sensible how much we must all be indebted to our fellow-creatures, in any privation of health and ease, and this had taught her to be humble and thankful to all who contributed to her comfort; and from necessarily suppressing both her appetite and her temper, she had gained a command of both, which she had been a stranger to before. From being unable to join in any play requiring personal activity, she had been obliged to find her amusement in reading; and as that most excellent and delightful work, “The Parent’s Assistant,” by Miss Edgeworth, had been presented to her just before, she made herself completely mistress of those admirable tales, and by conversing much upon them with Mr. and Mrs. Harewood, with whom she usually sat, she became deeply imbued with all the important precepts they are intended to convey, as well as the stories they so agreeably relate.

One evening, when the whole family were assembled, the disorder which had afflicted Zebby became the subject of conversation; Miss Campbell observing, “that the poor woman had undoubtedly been as nervous as any fine lady, and therefore given another proof, in addition to the multitude which must affect every person of judgment and feeling, that there was indeed no difference of constitution, feeling, or character, between white people and black ones, when they were placed in similar circumstances.”

“Certainly not,” said Mr. Harewood, “and in a short time this doctrine will be more fully proved by the emancipation of all the blacks, who will, I trust, become diligent servants and happy householders, no longer the slaves of tyrants, but the servants of upright masters.”

“But I am told, mamma,” said Edmund, “that the proprietors of West India property will all be ruined; people say, this will come upon them as a retribution for past sins; but as many of these sins were committed in days that are past, and the present inhabitants, in many instances, have behaved exceedingly well, I must own I wish sincerely this may not be the case. Can you tell me any thing about it?”

“They all deserve to be ruined,” interrupted Charles, “who have done such bad things as the planters do. Oh, how I wish I could be there when all the slaves are set at liberty! with what delight should I join in their universal shout of joy and freedom, and in all their innocent festivals!”

Edmund shook his head—“I should like the slaves to be happy as well as you; but I don’t like for any body to be ruined, especially people who are so nerveless and inactive as those who have resided in warm islands; surely it is not true?”

Edmund looked again inquiringly.

“I am sorry to say,” answered Mrs. Harewood, “that in many cases much suffering may be apprehended; but our government will undoubtedly soften every evil to the inhabitants, as far as they can do it consistent with their views: you know the emancipation of the slaves takes place gradually, and by that means enables people to collect their money, to divert the channels of their merchandise, or to make themselves friends of those who have hitherto been held by the arm of power only. The grand shout of a multitude restored to freedom is undoubtedly very attractive, and enough to warm the heart of a benevolent enthusiast like Charles; but it is not advisable to set food in great quantities before a starving man, lest he eat himself into a surfeit. Ignorance is always in danger of using power very ill, since we see that even the enlightened are frequently prone to misuse it.”

“Then I hope, mamma, it will turn out better than people think; and there will be very little individual suffering from it.”

“I am sorry to say, my dear, that notwithstanding what I have said, I yet fear many persons will suffer; I know a widow myself, who is returning to this country nearly destitute, after living many years in a state of luxury; very happily she has only one child, and has not suffered her past prosperity so to unnerve her mind, as to render her useless and desponding in the day of adversity. On the contrary, she has the magnanimity to rejoice in the freedom of the slaves, although that freedom has destroyed her fortune.”

At this moment, every eye was involuntarily bent on Matilda, who, feeling undoubtedly some degree of compunction and shame, when she either thought on her own former conduct, or the state of her country, had kept aloof till now. At this moment she started, and, with a look of most anxious inquiry, she cried—“Oh, ma’am! surely you do not mean my poor mamma? And yet—yes, certainly you mean her—she has lived many years in prosperity—she has but one child, and she is possessed of a pious, good heart, and a kind, generous spirit, and would not wish the poor negroes to remain slaves—she would rather work herself than injure any body. Dear Miss Campbell, pray make me clever and good like yourself, and then I will be a governess, and get money, and support dear mamma—indeed I will.”

The amazing rapidity with which these words were uttered, and the perturbation of spirits which accompanied them, prevented Matilda from perceiving that Mrs. Harewood was anxious to interrupt her; and even when that good friend began to speak, she was too much affected and disturbed to listen to her. She went on to say, with an agitated voice, but ingenuous countenance—“I cannot help crying, to be sure; but indeed I am not sorry that the poor slaves are to have their liberty, and I do not mind the money we have lost; I only want to see my dear mamma, and to comfort her, and to tell her that I would not be the mistress of bought slaves for all the world; for I now know that in the sight of God they are my equals, and if good, my superiors. I know that Jesus Christ died to save them as well as me, and that he will not forgive them who insult him, by daring to buy and sell those whom he has purchased with his own blood; and besides, I do not wish to possess them; for if I did, I should be proud and cruel and miserable, as I used to be.”

The anxious, troubled heart of Matilda now found refuge in abundant tears, and, throwing herself on the bosom of her maternal friend, she shed them freely there; and as the storm of grief subsided, Mrs. Harewood obtained her attention to these words—“My dear Matilda, your vivid imagination, and the quickness of feeling, which even in a good cause is too apt to hurry you away, have led you into unnecessary trouble; it is not your mamma, but a Mrs. Weston, of Jamaica, of whom I spoke. I can, however, scarcely regret the pain you have experienced, because it has caused you to express sentiments which do you honour, and which must give great pleasure to your mother.”

“But my mamma is coming over soon?”

“She is, my dear, but under very different circumstances, her property being all well disposed of, and settled in the English funds; and be it your comfort to know, that although your father was a proprietor of West India estates, yet his fortune was not accumulated by the infamous traffic to which we allude; although, like other people, he held slaves for the purposes of agriculture and domestic labour, he had an estate in this country, which enabled him to support an expensive establishment, without recurring to those practices too common among the planters in your country.”

“And has the lady of whom you spoke no estate, no money, to support herself and her little girl?”

“She has not, my dear; but I trust her friends in England will provide her with some situation, in which her talents will enable her both to support herself and benefit others; and by this means the cup of affliction now may hereafter prove one of blessedness: her little girl is only six years old, and will therefore be but a trifling expense to her for some years to come.”

Matilda now wiped her eyes, but was observed for a considerable time involved in deep thought, and silent thanksgiving to God, and no one around thought it right to interrupt the silent aspirations of her heart; but as soon as her countenance resumed its usual expression, and she rose from her seat, the young ones surrounded her, and with cheerful looks congratulated her on the change in her feelings, which they were aware a few moments must have produced; for, as Edmund observed, though it was very right to be resigned to every change which it pleased God to send, yet it was undoubtedly a great pleasure to know that a dear parent enjoyed not only the power of living in her usual style of comfort, but that she preserved the power of bestowing a part of her fortune to feed the poor, and to communicate knowledge, and sow the seeds of virtue in the minds of the young and uninformed.

Matilda listened to their congratulations with gratitude and pleasure, and looked forward with exultation, chastened by a proper diffidence of herself, to the time when, with her beloved mother, she should be employed in acts of beneficence and social enjoyment—“So passing through things temporal, as not to lose the things that are eternal.”