 unknown and unloved, amongst one's tenants and dependants—it is their industry and labour which supports our affluence, and they certainly

have a right to a certain share in our enjoyments, in proportion to their rank and situation.
An accident that happened this morning, had like to have triumphed over Sir William's good humour, which is not of the invincible kind.—As we sat at breakfast, in a room that looks into the garden, I observed Miss Ashford's eyes fixed on a particular object, in the walk before us—I thought she seemed surprised, and I naturally directed a look of inquiry, to discover the occasion; which was a little basket, that appeared to move, though gently, of itself.
The moment I mentioned this circumstance, the gentlemen came to the window, and Lord Lucan flew directly into the

garden, and explained the phenomenon, by bringing the basket and its contents into the parlour, which was an infant, about a week old, clean, though poorly clad, with a paper pinned to its breast, which said, this child has been baptized by its father's name, William.
This circumstance disconcerted Sir William, who, after many unnecessary asseverations of his innocence, upon this occasion, at which the whole company smiled, as they knew that he had been above a year out of the kingdom, determined to prove his virtue, at the expence of his humanity, by ordering the child to be again left in the garden where it was found, till the parish officers should come to take charge of it; and by commanding a strict search to be

made for the mother, that she might be punished, according to law.
We all opposed the severity of this resolution, as the poor infant appeared almost perished with cold, and hunger; but Sir William persisted in acting like an upright magistrate, according to the letter of the law—till Lord Lucan declared that he was ready to adopt the little foundling, and promised to take care of it for life, though his name was Thomas. Sir William then relaxed a little of his austerity, and gave vent to the remainder of it by attacking Lord Lucan with all the coarse raillery usual upon such occasions.
I confess I was pleased with this instance of his Lordship's humanity—I

have seen many others, even in the short term of our acquaintance—yet, at this instant, I could wish to have robbed him of this little act of benevolence, and have transferred it to Sir William—There is a secret and involuntary sympathy, that attaches us to generous minds—our affections are insensibly rivetted by esteem,
