good wife, you ought to give up the point, and acquiesce; for this seemeth to us to be the lesser evil; and God Almighty, if it should be your duty, will not be less merciful than men; who, as his honour says, by the laws of the realm, excuse a wife when she is faulty by the command of the husband; and we hope the fault he is pleased to make you commit (if a fault, for he really gives very praiseworthy motives for his dispensation), will not be laid at his own door. So e'en resolve, my dearest child, to submit to it, and with cheerfulness too.

God send you a happy hour! But who knows, when the time comes, whether it may not be proper to dispense with this duty, as you deem it, on other accounts? For every young person is not enabled to perform it. So, to show his honour that you will cheerfully acquiesce, your dear mother advises that you would look out for a wholesome, good-humoured, honest body, as near your complexion, and temper, and constitution, as may be; and it may not be the worse, she thinks, if she is twenty, or one or two-andtwenty; for she will have more strength and perfection, as one may say, than even you can have at your tender age: And, above all, for the wise reason you give from your reading, that she may be brought to bed much about your time, if it be possible.—We will look out, if you please, about us for such an one: And as Mr. B- is not averse to have the dear child in the house with you, you will have as much delight, and the dear baby may fare as well, under your prudent and careful eye, as if you were to be obliged in the way you would choose.

So God direct you, my dearest child, in all your ways, and make you acquiesce in this point with cheerfulness (although, as you say, one cannot believe as one pleases; for we verily are of opinion you safely may, as matters stand), and continue to you, and your beloved and honoured. husband, health, and all manner of happiness, are the prayers of

Your most affectionate father and mother,
JOHN AND ELIZ. ANDREWS.

I have privately showed our worthy minister your letter: You know, my dear, he is learned and judicious: And he is of our opinion, that it is best for you, on all accounts, to acquiesce. Besides, it may disoblige the 'squire and it will signify nothing, after all; for he will have his way, that's sure enough.

LETTER XLVII.

Mrs. B to her Parents.

I THANK you, my dearest parents, for your kind letter; it was given to Mr. B, and he brought it to me himself, and was angry with me: indeed he was, as you shall hear.

'Tis from the good couple, my dear, I see. I hope they are of my opinion. But whether they be or not—but I will leave you; and do you, Pamela, step down to my closet when you have perused it.

He was pleased to withdraw; and I read it, and sat down, and considered it well; but as you know I made it always my maxim to do what I could not avoid to do, with as good a grace as possible, I waited on the dear gentleman.

Well, Pamela, said he, a little seriously, what say the worthy pair?

Oh, sir! they declare for you. They say, it is best for me to yield up this point.

They are certainly in the right.—But were you not a dear perverse creature, to give me all this trouble about your saucy scruples?

Nay, sir, don't call them so, said I; little thinking he was displeased with me-I still am somewhat wavering; though they advise me to acquiesce: And as it is your

will, and you have determined how it shall be, it is my duty to yield up the point.

But do you yield it up cheerfully, my dear?

I do, sir; and will never more dispute it, let what will happen.—And I beg pardon for having so often entered into this subject with you.-But you know, sir, if one's weakness of mind gives one scruples, one should not yield implicitly, till they are satisfied: for that would look as if one gave you not the obedience of a free mind.

You are very obliging, just now, my dear: but I can tell you, you had made me half serious; yet I would not show it, in compliment to your present condition; for I did not expect that you would have thought any appeal necessary, though to your father and mother, in a point that I was determined upon, as you must see, every time we talked of it.

This struck me all in a heap. I looked down to the ground; having no courage to look up to his face, for fear I should behold his aspect as mortifying to me as his words. But he took both my hands, and drew me kindly to him, and saluted me.-Excuse me, my dearest love; I am not angry with you.-Speak to me, child.-Why starts this precious pearl? and kissed my cheek-speak to me, Pamela!—

I will, sir-I will-as soon as I can-for this being my first check, so seriously given, my heart was full. But as I knew he would be angry, and think me obstinate, if I did not speak; I said, full of concern-I wish, sir—I wish —you had been pleased to spare me longer, a little longer, for the same kind, very kind consideration.

But is it not better, my dear, to tell you I was a little out of humour with you, than that I am?-But you had been very earnest with me on this point more than once; and you put me upon a hated, because ungenerous, necessity of pleading my prerogative, as I call it: And yet this would not do, but you would appeal against me in the point I was determined upon, for reasons altogether in your favour! and if this was not like my Pamela, excuse me, that I could not help being a little unlike myself.

Ah! thought I, this is not so very unlike your dear self, if I were to give the least shadow of an occasion; for it is of a piece with your lessons formerly.*

I am sure, said I, I was not in the least aware that I had offended. But I was too little circumspect. I had been used to your goodness for so long a time, that I expected it, it seems; and thought I was sure of your favourable construction.

Why so you may be, my dear, in everything almost. But I don't love to speak twice † my mind on the same subject; you know I don't; and you have really disputed this point with me five or six times: insomuch, that I wondered what was come to my dearest.

I thought, sir, you would have distinguished between a command where my conscience was concerned, and a common point: You know, sir, I never had any will but yours in common points.-But indeed you make me fearful, because my task is rendered too difficult for my own weak judgment. But then, sir,—but I shall offend again—

And then what? Say all you would say, Pamela.—And then what?

Why, sir, if I must speak-you threaten me so at every turn with that cruel word polygamy, that it shows me it is too much in your mind.-But I shall make you angry again.

Was not the patriarch husbands' practice, Pamela, a fit thing to be opposed to that of the patriarch wives? But do you say, I threaten you with that word? Take care, my love: you have been a faultless angel hitherto. Don't let me find you ready to make such harsh constructions as a mere woman is accustomed to make, when she is disposed to be captious; although a better construction lies before her.

I was silent, but by my tears.

Now I doubt, Pamela, your spirit is high. You won't speak, because you are out of humour at what I say. I will have no sullen reserves, my dearest. What means that

heaving sob? I know, my dear love, that this is a time with your sex, when saddened with your apprehensions, and indulged because of them, by the fond husband, it is needful, for both their sakes, to watch over the changes of their temper. For ladies in your way are often like encroaching subjects: They are apt to extend what they call their privileges, on the indulgence showed them; and the husband never again recovers the ascendant he had before.

You know these things better than I, Mr. B. But I had no intention to invade your province, or to go out of my own. Yet I thought I had a right to a little freewill, a very little; especially on some greater occasions.

Why, so you have, my dear. But you must not plead one text of scripture in behalf of your own will: and refuse to another its due weight, when it makes for mine.

Well, sir, I must needs say I have one advantage above others of my sex: For if wives, in my circumstances, are apt to grow upon indulgence, I am very happy that your kind and watchful care will hinder me from falling into that error.

He gave me a gentle tap on the neck: Let me beat my beloved saucebox, said he is it thus you rally my watchful care over you for your own good? Pamela, are you not a little sullen? dear-are you not?

But tell me truly, Look up to me, my

I believe I am; but 'tis but very little, sir-it will soon go off-please to let me withdraw, that I may take myself to task about it;-for at present I know not what to do, because I did not expect the displeasure I have incurred.

Is it not the same thing, replied he, if this our first quarrel end here, without your withdrawing?-I forgive you heartily, my Pamela; and give me one kiss, and I will think of your saucy appeal against me no more.

I will comply with your condition, sir; but I have a great mind to be saucy. I wish you would let me for this once.