ABSTRACT
It was one day a er they had had a severe chace of many hours, when reynard38 succeeded in foiling all his adversaries, and the company were dispersed over the elds, that Ned took the opportunity of their dispersion to return home without taking leave of Nettle eld, and hoping that Captain Rivers, who was not immediately in sight, would follow him. He was somewhat fatigued with the length of the chace, and had no mind to engage in the still severer toil that he knew he must undergo had he accompanied Mr. Nettle eld to his house. Wrapped up then in pleasing meditations on his present happiness, and the new and busy scenes that were opening to him, he gave his horse the bridle, permitting him to take his own choice of the way he would go home; and not doubting but he would lead him the nearest, if not the easiest road. In this, however, he was mistaken; for the horse had been purchased from Nettle eld, who bred him; and being now seized with a desire to visit his native elds,/ he was actually conducting Edward to the very spot in which he was foaled. In their way was a deep glen, through which ran a stream of water, and beside it stood a lonely cottage, whose ruinous appearance and deserted situation pronounced it to be the abode of neglected misery. Ned stopped a moment to contemplate this sequestered spot, and to slake his thirst with the cool and limpid stream that was gliding by; when a poor and feeble, but venerable and decent old woman came out of the cottage; supporting with a stick in one hand her tottering steps, and bearing in the other
an empty pitcher, which when lled with water, she would scarcely be able to carry back again. When she saw Edward, she would have retired; but he immediately alighted from his horse, and, with all that good nature which was ever an instinctive movement of his soul, relieved her from the burthen of her pitcher, which he lled for her with water, and insisted upon carrying it for her into the house. is little/ act of kindness, however inconsiderable in itself, yet a orded a dawn of consolation to the a icted object for whom it was performed; for it was the rst act of pity or attention that she had experienced for a long while, though no person could be more in need of both, nor better deserve them. e good old woman surveyed Ned for a minute in silent gratitude, and then burst out into tears. ‘Alas! dame,’ said the sympathizing youth,’ ‘surely some deep misfortune has befallen you, that you live thus lonely in this ruinous cottage, so far from any neighbour or assistance.’ ‘Oh! Sir,’ replied she, ‘I am not quite alone, for God is with me; and he perhaps has sent you here this day to witness the distress I am in, and may be to save the life of my poor child. Pray, Sir, have the goodness to look in here, and see if you can do any thing for her.’ She then conducted Ned into a little space partitioned o the cottage by a few wattles, where, on a pallet of straw, lay a beautiful girl of about eighteen, in/ the highest paroxysm of a pleuretic fever. e slush that was on her countenance gave a transient illumination to her beauty; but the xed stare of her eyes, and the burning heat of her body, joined to the short pantings of her breath, seemed to indicate that a very short period would place her beyond the reach of all worldly calamity.
