The whole party were true to their appointment the following evening, and Mrs. Meridith resumed her story.

"On our second arrival at Jamaica, Mr. Meridith had every reason to believe my opinion of Jackson (the man in whose care he had left his property, and the overseer to the plantation) was right, for he was hardly willing to let us re-enter our own house; and Syphax, who soon gained intelligence among the slaves of his rapaciousness, and cruel conduct towards them, informed his master, though not without great fear of the consequence. The very idea of having part of our property in our fellow creatures was to me always distressing; and I now proposed selling the estate while we were on the spot, and discharging Jackson without any recommendation. Syphax and Bella, who also came with us from Madras, eagerly seconded my proposal.

"'Oh, Sir, you don't know how he uses them,' said Bella; 'I have felt what they feel.' 'And I too,' said Syphax; 'at least, massa, put some better white man over them than he is.'

"Oh no, said I, sell them to some humane purchaser (if we must enter into this horrid traffic), and make Jackson's character sufficiently known to prevent his being employed again, at least over these poor creatures; and let us not live in the constant apprehension of what they must suffer to provide us rum, and sugar, and sweetmeats, when we are not here to see how they are treated." My arguments prevailed, and the plantation was sold with the slaves upon it; except those who were old and disabled, to whom we gave their liberty, and they were received into a charitable asylum for persons of that description, and to which Mr. Meridith presented a handsome donation.

"Bella and Syphax wept for joy when they saw some of their poor countrymen in this place, and were ready to think all the white men whom they knew in their younger days were not Christians; 'but now we see what Christians are,' said they, 'and we will love them dearly.' Alas! they had seen them before, or men bearing that appellation, but how deserving either were of the title, we must leave to the Judge of all hearts to determine.

"When the estate was sold (and I have reason to think it was disposed of to a compassionate man, as well as to great advantage to ourselves), my husband satisfied Jackson's demands; and we were pleased to hear him say, that he meant to trade with the money he had acquired (and very badly I fear), and no longer act as overseer to any one.

"'There is one cruel white man less, then,' said Bella, 'to whip my poor countrymen,' We were now on the eve of departure, and my hopes were all alive for England, when the yellow fever broke out, and Mr. Meridith caught the infection. He would have insisted on my leaving him, but I would not hear of it; I sent my two children with Bella and Syphax to a distant part of the island, fully assured that they would take care of them; and with the best advice the place afforded, my husband at length recovered; but my poor English maid died of it, just as she was fondly hoping to return to her native country.

"I have often regretted both her and Wilson," continued Mrs. Meridith, after shedding a tear to their memory: "as our having brought them from their home, though not against their inclination, made me more desirous of their returning with us; but both their lives were sacrificed to our service; and I think it but a poor amends to their families, the being enabled to assist them, who must feel the loss of a son and a daughter, too keenly for money to recompense, at least if they feel like me. It was my anxiety alone, and extreme solicitude for my husband, which prevented my taking the infection; and I was no sooner assured that there was no farther danger of it, than we re-embraced our children, and once more prepared for England. Bella and Syphax were now our constant attendants, and we embarked, and arrived in our own country in less than a month.

"I had then been of age about four months, and, after the necessary preliminaries, was put into possession of my estates, and the money we brought with us from the West-Indies was vested in the funds, and we hoped to live happily for many years; but my husband's constitution had received a shock from the fever, and the violent remedies which were given him for it, which he never recovered; and I had the misery of seeing his health daily growing worse and worse, though every medicine and change of air was repeatedly tried. His uncle and mine, Sir Robert Meridith, was not dead, but his second lady had brought him only daughters: so that he was now anxious for the recovery of his nephew, and often solicited us to try a milder climate. To this I should readily have consented, but he would not hear of it.

"'I have carried you over the seas often enough, my dear Maria,' he would say, 'nor will I again risk your precious life for what I have not the most distant prospect of obtaining; my health is too far gone ever to be recovered, but for the sake of our dear children, do you take care of your's.' But let me pass over the melancholy detail.

"Having tried the air of various places, without any material benefit, we at last settled at Coombdale, where he lingered out a painful existence for above three years, which all my attention could not alleviate, and which rendered him still dearer to me, as I saw the fortitude and resignation with which he bore his sufferings. I became a widow with two children when only thirty years old. Need I tell you my distress, or what I felt when I found he was no more—but that would be impossible! The faithful affection of Syphax and Bella, both to him and myself, I can never forget; and I now wished to live only for my children; and, in pursuance to his injunction, to exert myself for their sake; but alas! they were too soon taken from me!—But why do I say too soon? did not the Almighty, who gave them, know the proper time? Oh! that I could cease to murmur! I lost them both in the small-pox within the year after their dear father; during which Bella and Syphax attended them with unremitting attention; and had it not been for them, I must have been swallowed up with excessive grief.

"I looked around, and the world seemed all a blank to me; not one relation whom I could love; when but a few months back I had an affectionate husband, and two children, whose ripening years seemed to promise me every comfort."

Tears now interrupted her speech, and her auditors felt too much to offer a word of consolation. Poor Anna wept aloud, and throwing her arms around her neck, said in broken accents, "Oh! my dear Mamma, I can never be to you what these were;—but all my life—every thing in my power,"—sobs and tears prevented her uttering more.

"I know what you would say, my Anna," returned her weeping patroness. "But let me not distress you and all my friends;—Alas! what does this melancholy retrospection lead to, but sorrow on every side, and impious murmurings on mine! Let me draw my melancholy tale to a conclusion.—Having seen the last duties performed to the remains of all I held dear, who were buried at Coombdale, and where, my friend," addressing Mr. Campbell, who could only bow his assent, "if you survive me, I hope you will see me buried also, I left the place where every thing reminded me of my heavy loss; and after a visit to London for a few weeks, to settle and regulate my affairs, I determined to seek the place of my childhood, and if among my first friends I could find any who could in any measure fill the vacancy made in my affections;—for to have no one to care for, and no one to care for us, is dreadful. I accordingly took my journey hither; and have found that quiet retirement, and a sincere desire to add to the happiness of others, will make sorrows, even like mine, supportable."

Here Mrs. Meridith ended her narrative, and the swoln eyes of her auditors gave a proof that they had been attentive to it. Their silence also was far more eloquent, in her opinion, than all the professions they could have made. Each looked at her with pity and admiration; and Anna thought she could never do enough, or be sufficiently attentive to such an excellent woman, who had encountered so many sorrows, and had been so good to her.

Supper was now brought in, but neither of the party could eat any, and they tried in vain to obliterate from Mrs. Meridith's mind the recollection of what she had related; the retrospection of her many trials had been too much for her, and she remained absorbed in silent grief. After her uncle and aunt had left them, on finding her friend did not retire to rest, Anna asked if she should read to her, "or would you like a little music, mamma?" said she, having heard that was sometimes efficacious in expelling melancholy.

"Which do you think," said Mrs. Meridith, "is most likely to soothe grief like mine?"

"Reading, mamma, from what I have heard you say," replied Anna; "I am sorry I mentioned music."

"And what book can offer me consolation?" said Mrs. Meridith, with a dejected air.

"I know but of one, mamma, and that is the Scriptures," replied Anna. "Shall I read in them?"

"Do, my child," replied Mrs. Meridith; "and there let me learn that the best of men are not exempt from affliction; why then should I repine at it. But I am an ungrateful creature."

The next morning Anna rejoiced to see the countenance of her kind friend restored to its usual tranquillity; and after breakfast they walked to the farm, as Mrs. Meridith was anxious to see Mr. and Mrs. Campbell after her late recital. When they arrived neither of them were at home, and they were told that one of the labourers' wives had been taken ill in the night, and Mrs. Campbell was gone to visit her.

Thither also Mrs. Meridith and Anna bent their steps, and met her just come from the house, her eyes full of tears. "What is the matter, my dear aunt," asked Anna, "is dame Lewry very ill?"

"She is just dead," returned Mrs. Campbell, "and has left a distressed family indeed: her husband has such bad health, that for more than half the year he can do no work."

"What family has she left?" asked Mrs. Meridith; "she was always a very civil woman, and seemed industrious."

"She was," replied Mrs. Campbell, "which will make her loss more severely felt; she has left six children, and most of them too young to do any thing."

Mrs. Meridith entered the cottage, where the poor man sat surrounded by his children, with looks of the deepest sorrow. "Here is a case worse than mine," thought Mrs. Meridith: "poverty and ill health I never knew." She did not attempt to offer any comfort to the man at that time, but putting some money into his hand, she promised to call again.

He would have thanked her, but his countenance seemed to say, "this will not restore my wife to me;" and then looking at his children, he repeated with tears, "if it had been me, instead of her, she could have done something,—I shall never get over this stroke."

"The Almighty is able to support both you and them," returned Mrs. Meridith; "do not despair," and her eyes expressed the feeling of her heart.

On their return to the farm, Mrs. Campbell, ever ready to assist the distressed, said she intended taking the eldest girl, then about ten years old, into her family; and lest her father should feel the want of her at home (she being the only one who could be of any use in the house), Anna proposed their sending an old woman in the village, whose home was not very comfortable at her son's-in-law, with whom she then lived, to take care of Lewry's family. This arrangement was not put in execution till after the funeral, and they had consulted the poor man upon it; who readily acceded to any thing they mentioned, and was very thankful that his girl should get into so good a place as farmer Campbell's.

The old woman, to whom Mrs. Meridith allowed a weekly stipend, readily undertook the care of the younger children, who were chiefly girls, saying, "I knew their poor mother well, and a kind neighbour she always was to me; and he too, I shall be happy to do him some good, and I'll take as much care of his children as if they were my own."

Mrs. Meridith and Anna frequently called at the cottage, and the smiling face of one of the little girls, then about six years old, always attracted their attention; and Mrs. Meridith asked her daughter if she would like to have her to Rosewood, and instruct her in what was necessary to make her a servant to herself.

"Nothing would please me more, mamma," returned Anna, "and, under your guidance, and with Bella to teach her what I do not know, I hope I should not spoil her; and Bella will be quite delighted, for she is already very fond of her."

"But your attention to your little favourite must not withdraw your affection from me, my dear Anna," said Mrs. Meridith.

"Oh! my dear mamma, how can you think she will?" replied the affectionate girl; "can I ever love her as I do you, who have done so much for me?"

"Nor is she to be made our companion," continued Mrs. Meridith, "only when we chuse to be amused by her; but she shall always be with Bella and Syphax, and never in the kitchen if they can help it; and though from her coming so young we must expect her to treat us with familiarity, if we gain her confidence and esteem, and teach her rightly to appreciate her own character, we need not be afraid of disrespect. I should wish a servant to be well acquainted with me, and to believe that I would not betray the trust she reposed in me; and it is desirable this confidence should be mutual, though I am sorry to say there are but few servants in whom it can be placed; yet, I think the manner I intend little Betsy to be brought up, would be the most probable way to obtain such an one. Time will shew whether I am right or not."