Why, he re-assured the woman, as I told you: and then proceeded to ask many questions of the elder Oldham I pitied that young fellow to have a mother in his eye, whose very tenderness to the young ones kept alive the sense of her guilt. And yet what would she have been, had she not been doubly tender to the innocents, who were born to shame from her fault? Theyoungmanacknowledged a military genius, and Sir Charles told him, that he would, on his return from a journey he was going to take, consider whether he could not do him ser-vice in the way he choose. He gave him, it seems, a brief lecture on what he should aim to be, and what avoid, to qualify himself for a man of true ho-nour; and spoke very handsomely of such gentlemen of the army as are real gentlemen. The young fellow, continued Miss Grandison, may look upon himself to be as good as provided for, since my bro-ther never gives the most distant hope that is not followed by absolute certainty, the first opportunity, not that offers, but which he can make.

He took great notice of the little boys. He di-lated their hearts, and set them a prating; and was pleased with their prate. The doctor, who had never seen him before in the company of children, applauded him for his vivacity, and condescending talk to them. The tenderest father in the world, he said, could not have behaved more tenderly, or shewed himself more delighted with his own children, than he did with those brats of Mrs. Oldham.

Ah, Charlotte! And is it out of doubt, that you are the daughter of Lady Grandison, and sister of Sir Charles Grandison? Well, but I believe you are Some children take after the father, some after the mother! Forgive me, my dear.

But I won’t. I have a great mind to quarrel with you, Harriet.

Pray don’t; because I could neither help, nor can be sorry for, what I said. But pray proceed.

Why he made presents to the children. I don’t know what they were; nor could the doctor tell me. I suppose very handsome ones; for he has the spirit of a prince. He enquired very particularly after the circumstances of the mother; and was more kind to her than many people would be to their own mo-thers He can account for this, I suppose though I cannot. The woman, it is true, is of a good fa-mily, and so forth: but that enhances her crime. Natural children abound in the present age. Keeping is fashionable. Good men should not counte — nance such wretches. But my brother and you are charitable creatures! With all my heart, child. Virtue, however, has at least as much to say on one side of the question as on the other.