The history of Henry Earl of Moreland / [Ed. by J.W].

  • Henry Brooke
Date:
[1813]
Catalogue details

Licence: Public Domain Mark

Credit: The history of Henry Earl of Moreland / [Ed. by J.W]. Source: Wellcome Collection.

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    On a summer's day, as he strolled forth with these his faithful attendants, and rambled into a park whose gate he saw open, he perceived, in a little copse that bordered on a fish-pond* a stranger seated on a bench of turf. Harry drew near with his usual intre- pidity, till he observed that the man had a reverend beard that spread over his breast, that he held something in his hand on which he gazed with fixed attention, and that the tears rolled down his cheeks, without ceasing, and in silence, except the half suppressed sobs that often broke from his bosom. Harry stood, awhile, immoveable, his little heart was affected; he approached the old man with a gentle reverence, and looking up in his face, and setting himself by his side, the muscles of his infant face began to relax, and he wept and sobbed as fast as his companion. The old gentleman turned and gazed at the child, as on some sudden apparition. His tears stopped. He returned the picture, which he held, into his bosom. And lifting up his eyes. Great Power, he cried, is this the one, of all the world, who has any feelings for me 1 Is it this babe, whom thou hast sent, to be a partaker in my griefs, and the sharer of my afflictions ? Welcome, then, my little friend, said he, tenderly turning and caressing the child ; I will live the longer for thy sake, and endeavour to repay the tears thou hast shed in my behalf. The language of true love is understood by ail creatures, and was that of which Harry had, almost, the only perception. He returned his friend's caresses with unaffected ardour, and no two could be more highly gratified in the endearments of each other. What is your name, my dear? said the old gentleman. Harry^ Clinton, Sir. Harry Clinton! repeated the old man, and started. And pray who is your father 1 The child, then looking tenderly at him, replied. I'll have you for a father, if you please. Sir. The stranger then caught him up in his arms, and passionately exclaimed. You shall, you shall, my darling, for the tenderest of fathers, never to be tom asunder till death shall part us. Then asking him where he lived, and Harry pointing to the town before them, they both got up, and went towards it. Our hero wa& now again all glee, all action; he sprung from and to his friend, and played and gamboled about him, like a young spaniel in a morn- ing, just loosed from his chain, and admitted to accompany^ his master to the field. As his two dogs frisked about him, he would now mount one, then bound upon t'other, and each pranced and paraded under him as delighted with the burden. The old gentle-
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