he does not know what he carries; becaufe I feal them up in one of the little pill-boxes which my lady had, wrapped clofe in paper, that they mayn't chink; and be fure don't open it before him. I know, dear father and mother, I muft give you both grief and pleasure; and fo I will only fay, pray for your Pamela; who will ever be your moft dutiful daughter. I have been feared out of my fenfes; for for he was always dutiful to bis parents; and why fhould he be angry, that I was fo to mine! And indeed he was not angry; for he took me by the hand, and faid-You are a good girl, Pamela, to be kind to your aged father and mother. I am not angry with you, for writing fuch ⚫ innocent matters as thefe; though you ought to be wary what tales you fend out of a family.-Be faithful ⚫ and diligent; and do as you should do, and I like you the better for this. And then he faid Why, Pamela, you write a very pretty Land, and spell tolerably too. I fee my good mother's care in your learning has not been thrown away upon you. Sie used to fay, you loved reading; you may look into of her books to improve your elf, fo you take care of them.' To be fure I did think nothing but curtfey and cry, and was all in confufion, at his goodness. Indeed he is the best of gentlemen, I think! But I am making another long letter: fo will only ald to it, that I fhall ever be your dutiful daughter any LETTER II. IN ANSWER TO THE PRECEDING. DEAR PAMELA, You OUR letter was indeed a great trouble, and fome comfort, to me and your poor mother. We are troubled, to be fure, for your good lady's death, who took fuch care of you, and gave you learning, and for three or four years paft has always been giving you cloaths and linen, and every thing that a gentlewoBut our chief trouble is, and indeed a man need not be afhamed to appear in. very great one, for fear you fhould be by being fet fo above yourself. Everybrought to any thing dishonest or wicked, body talks how you have come on, and what a genteel girl you are; and fome fay you are very pretty; and, indeed, fix months fince, when I faw you last, I fhould have thought fo myself, if you was if you are to be ruined and undone !--not our child. But what avails all this, Indeed, my dear Pamela, we begin to be in confcience, and to be difhoneft? We are, all the riches in the world, with a bad it is true, very poor, and find it hard know, it was better with us. enough to live; though once, as you would fooner live upon the water, and, if poffible, the clay, of the ditches I contentedly dig, than live better at the price great fear for you; for what fignify of our child's ruin. But we I hope the good fquire has no defign; but when he has given you fo much money, and speaks fo kindly to you, and praifes your coming on; and, oh! that you, if you would do as you should do, fatal word, that he would be kind to almoft kills us with fears. Mumford about it, who, you know, has I have fpoken to good old Widow formerly lived in good families; and the puts us in fome comfort; for she says, it what he has about her perfon to her is not unufual, when a lady dies, to give her in her illness. But, then, why should waiting maid, and to fuch as fit up with he finile fo kindly upon you? Why should he take fuch a poor girl as you by the twice? Why thould he focɔ to read hand, as your le ter fays he has done your letter to us; and come and your writing and buling? And why leonid PAMELA ANDREW he give you leave to read his in wher's books? at once. If, then, you love us, if you wish for God's bleffing, and your onun future happiness, we both charge you to stand upon your guard: and, if you find the leaft attempt made upon your virtue, be fure you leave every-thing behind you, and come away to us; for we had rather fee you all covered with rags, and even follow you to the church-yard, than have it faid, a child of ours preferred any worldly conveniencies to her virtue. We accept kindly of your dutiful prefent; but till we are out of pain, cannot make use of it, for fear we should partake of the price of our poor daughter's fhame: fo have laid it up in a rag among the thatch, over the window, for a while, left we thould be robbed. With our blessings, and our hearty prayers for you, we remain, your careful, but loving father and mother, JOHN and ELIZABETH ANDREWS. LETTER III. DEAR FATHER, Muft needs fay, your letter has filled Muft needs fall for it tas made my heart, which was overflowing with gra• titude for my mafter's goodness, fufpicious and fearful; and yet, I hope I fhall never find him to act unworthy of his character; for what could he get by ruining fuch a poor young creature as me? But that which gives me most trouble is, that you feem to mistrust the ho. ney of your child. No, my dear father and mother, be ailured, that, by God's grace, I never will do any thing that fail bring your grey hairs with forrow to the grave. I will die a thoufand deaths, rather than be dishonest any way. Of that be affured, and fet your hearts at eit; for although I have lived above myfof for fome time pit, yet I can be content with rags and poverty, and bread and water, and will embrace them, rather than fortcit my good name, let who will be the tempter. And of this, pray reft fatisfied, and think better of your dutiful daughter till death. me. My mafter continues to be very affable to As yet I fee no caufe to fear any thing. Mrs. Jervis the houfe-keeper too is very civil to me, and I have the love of every-body. Sure they cannot all have defigns against me, becaufe they are civil! I hope I fhall always behave fo as to be refpected by every one; and that nobody would do mé more hurt, than I am fure I would. do them. Our John fo often goes your way, that I will always get him to call, that you may hear from me, either by writing (for it brings my hand in) or by word of mouth. LETTER IV. DEAR MOTHER, OR the haft was to my father, in an fwer to his letter; and to I will now write to you; though I have nothing to fay, but what will make me look more like a vain huffy, than any thing else: however, I hope I fhan't be fo proud as to forget myfelf. Yet there is a fecret pleafure one has to hear one's felf praifed. You must know, then, that my Lady Davers, who, I need not tell you, is my mafter's fifter, has been a month at our houfe, and has taken great notice of me, and given me good advice to keep myfelf to myfelf. She told me I was a very pretty wench, and that every-body gave me a very good character, and loved me; and bid me take care to keep the fejlovs at a diftance; and faid, that I might do, and be more valued for it, even by themfelves. But what pleafed me much, was what I am going to tell you; for at table, as Mrs. Jervis fays, my matter and her ladyfhip talking of me, the told him, the thought 1 thought me the prettiest wench the ever faw in her life; and that I was too pretty to live in a batchelor's houfe, fince no lady he might marry would care to continue me with her. He faid, I was vaftly improved, and had a good share of prudence and fenfe above my years; and that it would be pity, that what was my merit should be my misfortune. No, fays my good lady, Pamela thall come and live with me, I think. He faid, With all his heart; he should be glad to have ne fo well provided for. Well,' faid fhe, I'll confult my lord about it.' She asked how old I was; and Mrs. Jervis faid, I was fifteen laft February. O!' fays fhe, if the wench (for fo fhe calls all us maiden-fervants) takes care of herfelf, the'll improve yet more and more, as well in her perfon as mind.' Now, my dear father and mother, though this may look too vain to be repeated by me, yet are you not rejoiced, as well as I, to fee my mafter fo willing to part with me? This fhews that he has nothing bad in his heart. But John is just going away; and fo I have only to fay, that I am, and will always be, your boneft as well as dutiful daughter. Pray make use of the money. You may now do it fafely. LETTER V. MY DEAR FATHER AND MOTHER, OHN being to go your way, I am willing to write, because he is fo willing to carry any-thing for me. He Lays it does him good at his heart to fee you both, and to hear you talk. He fays you are both fo fenfible, and fo honeft, that he always learns fomething from you to the purpofe. It is a thoufand pities, he fays, that fuch worthy hearts should not have better luck in the world! and wonders, that you, my father, who are fo well able to teach, and write fo good a hand, fucceeded no better in the fchool you attempted to fet up; but was forced to go to fuch hard labour. But this is more pride to me, that I am come of fuch honeft parents, than if I had been born a lady. I hear nothing yet of going to Lady Davers; and I am very eafy at prefent here for Mrs. Jervis ufes me as if I were her own daughter, and is a very good woman, and makes my mafter's intereft her own. She is always giving me good counfel, and I love her, next to you two, I think, bett of any-body. She keeps fo good rule and order, the is mightily refpected by us all; and takes delight to hear me read to her; and all fhe loves to hear read, is good books, which we read whenever we are alone; fo that I think I am at home with you. She heard one of our men, Harry, who is no better than he should be, fpeak freely to me; I think he called me his pretty Pamela, and took hold of me, as if he would have kiffed me; for which, you may be fure, I was very angry; and the took him to talk, and was as angry at him as could be; and told me she was very well pleafed to fee my prudence and modetty, and that I kept all the fellows at a distance. And indeed I am fure I am not proud, and carry it civilly to every-body; but yet, methinks, I cannot bear to be looked upon by thefe men fervants; for they feem as if they would look one through; and, as I generally breakfaft, dime, and fup, with Mrs. Jer, vis, (fo good the is to me) I am very eafy that I have fo little to say to them. Not but they are very civil to me in the main, for Mrs. Jervis's fake, who they fee Loves me; and they stand in awe of her, knowing her to be a gentlewoman born, though fhe has had misfortunes. I am going on again with a long letter; for I love writing, and fhall tire you. But when I began, I only intended to fay, that I am quite fearlefs of any danger now: and, indeed, cannot but wonder at myfelf, (though your caution to me was your watchful love) that I should be fo foolish as to be fo uneafy as I have been: for I am fure my mafter would not demean himself, fo as to think upon fuch a poor girl as I, for my harm. For fuch a thing would ruin his credit as well as mine, you know: who, to be fure, may expect one of the best ladies in the land. So no more at prefent, but that I am your ever-dutiful daughter. aprons, and four Holland ones. The clothes are fine filk, and too rich and too good for me, to be fure. I with it was no affront to him to make money of them, and fend it to you: it would do me more good. You will be full of fears, I warrant now, of some defign upon me, till I tell you, that he was with Mrs. Jervis when he gave them me; and he gave her a mort of good things, at the fame time, and bid her wear them in remembrance of her good friend, my lady, his mother. And when he gave me thefe fine things, he faid- Thele, Pamela, are for you; ⚫ have them made fit for you, when your mourning is laid by, and wear them ⚫ for your good miftrefs's fake. Mrs. Jervis gives you a very good word; and I would have you continue to behave as prudently as you have done hitherto, and every-body will be your * friend.' I was fo furprized at his goodness, that I could not tell what to fay. I curtfeyed to him, and to Mrs. Jervis for her good word; and faid, I wished I might be deferving of his favour, and her kindness: and nothing should be wanting in me, to the best of my knowledge. O how amiable a thing is doing good! -It is all I envy great folks for! I always thought my young master a fine gentleman, as every-body fays he is: but he gave thefe good things to us both with fuch a graciousness, as I thought he Jooked like an angel. Mrs. Jervis fays, he afked her, If I kept the men at a distance; for, he faid, I was very pretty; and to be drawn in to have any of them, might be my ruin, and make me poor and miferable betimes She never is wanting to give me a good word, and took occation to launch out in my praife, the fays. But I hope the has faid no more than I thall try to deferve, though I mayn't at prefent. I am sure I will always love her, next to you and my dear mother. So I reft your everdxtiful daughter. LETTER VII. DEAR FATHER, Smoce me things. He called me up INCE my laft, my mafter gave me to my late lady's closet, and pulling out Aer drawers, he gave me two fuits of fine Flanders laced headclothes; three pair of fine filk fhoes, two hardly the worse, and juft fit for me, (for my lady had a very little foot) and the other with wrought filver buckles in them; and feveral ribbands and top-knots of all colours; four pair of white fine cotton-stockings, and three pair of fine filk ones; and two pair of rich stays. I was quite aftonithed, and unable to speak for a while; but yet I was inwardly afhamed to take the ftockings,; for Mrs. Jervis was not there: if he had, it would have been nothing. I believe I received them very aukwardly! for he fmiled at my aukwardness, and faid- Don't blush, Pamela: doft think I don't know pretty maids should wear 'fhoes and ftockings." I was fo confounded at these words, you might have beat me down with a feather. For, you must think, there was no answer to be made to this: fo, like å fool, I was ready to cry; and went away curtfeying and blufhing, I am fure, up to the ears; for, though there was no harm in what he faid, yet I did not know how to take it. But I went and told all to Mrs. Jervis, who faid, God put it into his heart to be good to me; and I must double my diligence. It looked to her, fhe faid, as if he would fit me in dress for a waiting-maid's place on Lady Davers's own person. But ftill your kind fatherly cautions came into my head, and made all thefe gifts nothing near to me what they would have been. But yet, I hope, there is no reafon; for what good could it do to him to harm fuch a fimple maiden as me? Befides, to be fure no lady would look upon him, if he fho ld fo difgrace himfelf. So I will make myself eafy; and, indeed, I fhould never have been otherwife, if you had not put it into my head; for my good, I know very well. But, may be, without thefe uneafineffes to mingle with thefe benefits, I might be too much puffed up: fo I will conclude, all that happens is for our good; and God bless you, my dear father and mother; and I know you conftantly pray for a bleffing upon me; who am, and hall always be, your dutiful daughter. Yet there may not be, and I hope there is not, any thing in it. But when I refect, that there poibly may, and that if there thold, no lefs depends upon it than my child's everlafting happiness in this world and the next; it is enough to make one fearful for you. Arm yourfeif, my dear child, for the wortt; and refolve to lofe your life fooner than your virtue. What though the doubts I filled you with, leffen the pleature yo would have had in your malter's kindness; yet what fignify the delights that arife from a few paltry fine cloaths, in comparison with a good confcience? These are indeed very great favors that he heaps upon you, but fo much the more to be futpected; and when you fay he looked to amiably and like an angel, how afreid I am, that they fhould make too great an impreffion upon you! For, though you are bleffed with ferfe and prudence above your years, yet I trembe to think, what a fad hazard a poor maiden of little more than fifteen years of age tands against the temptations of this world, and a defigning young gentleman, if he fhould prove fo, who has fo much power to oblige, and has a kind of authority to command as your matter. Iharge you, my dear child, on both our bleflings, poo, as we are, to be on your gard; there can be no harm in that. And fince Mrs. Jervis is fo good a gentlewoman, and fo kind to you, I am the cafier a great deal, and fo is your mother; and we hope you will hide nothing from her, and take her counfel in every-thing. So, with our bleffings, and affured prayers for you, more than for our felves, we remain your loving father and mother. Be fure don't let peoples telling you, you are pretty, puff you up; for you did not make yourself, and fo can have no praife due to you for it. It is virtue and goodness only, that make the true beauty. Remember that, Pamela, LETTER IX. DEAR PATHER AND MOTHER, Am forry to write you word, that the hopes I had of going to wait on Lady Davers are quite over. My lady wold have had me; but my mafter, as I heard by-the-by, would not confent to it. He faid, her nephew might be taken with me, and I might draw him in, or be drawn in by him; and he thought, as his mother loved me, and committed me to his care, he ought to continue me with him; and Mrs. Jervis would be a mother to me. Mrs. Jervis tells me, the lady shook her head, and faid—' Ah! 'brother!' and that was all. And as you have made me fearful by yo. r cautions, my heart at times mifgives me. But I fay nothing yet of your caution, or my own uneafinefs, to Mrs. Jervis; not that I miftr it her, but for fear the should think me prefumptuous, and vain, and conceited, to have any fears about the matter, from the great distance between fuch a gentleman, and fo poor a girl. But yet Mrs. Jervis feemed to build fomething upon Lady Davers's fhaking her head, and faying- Ab! brother! and no more. God, I hope, will give me his grace; and fo I will not, if I can help it, make myself too unealy; for I hope there is no occafion. But every little matter that happens, I will acquamt you with, that you may continue to me your good advice, and pray for your fadhearted PAMELA. O this angel of a master! this fine gentleman! this gracious benefactor to your poor Pamela! who was to take care of me at the prayer of his good dying mother; who was fo apprehenfive for me, left I fhould be drawn in by Lord Davers's nephew, that he would not let me go to Lady Davers's: this very gentleman (yes, I must call him gentleman, though he has fallen from the merit of that title) has degraded himself to offer freedoms to his poor fervant! He has now fhewed himself in his true colours, and, to me, nothing appears fo black, and fo frightful, |