niature from his pocket, he gazed on it with the moſt earned attention, and gave himſelf up to painful and tormenting conjecture. From this reverie he was arouſed by this emphatic ejaculation–“Thank Almighty God, I have found him!” Suddenly raiſing his eyes, he ſaw before him his foſter-father, who, on miſſing him in the village, had, at the requeſt of his mother, purſued him. The old man, perceiving that his ſon looked coldly on him, eagerly inquired, with tears in his eyes, if he was not glad to ſee him.
“O, yes,” ſaid Glanville, ſtarting from his reverie, and aſſuming a cheerful countenance, “that I am! Never did your preſence glad my ſight ſo much as at this moment: for thou art come, my father, to clear my mind of doubts that ſhake my peace, and, like a poiſonous canker, deſtroy the bud of happineſs. Either my ſuſpicions have made me the moſt ungrateful wretch alive, or they prove me the moſt injured of mankind. Speak, ſay, who was my father? Nay, do not ſhrink thus from the queſtion; but as thou hoped for mercy hereafter, tell me who my parents were; for there have ariſen circumſtances which might perſuade a ſtronger mind to think myſelf of higher birth than my preſent fortune ſpeaks me.”
“I know not how to anſwer,” ſaid the trembling Jolet (ſuch was the peaſant’s name); “yet do I well know thou art no ſon of mine.”
“How then did I come beneath your roof? Thou didſt not ſurely ſteal me, Jolet. Thou couldſt never be ſo cruel, to rob the doating mother of her tender charge, or tear from the anxious father’s fond embrace the pledge of conjugal felicity.”
“O, no, my ſon (for in affection thou art ſtill my ſon), theſe hands were never engaged in theft. From every diſhoneſt act I am as pure as you were when, an helpleſs infant, and ſmiling in the ruffian’s face, I ſnatched thee from his uplifted dagger.”
“Ha! murder! Oh, my ſoul ſickens at the very thought!–But tell me all thou knoweſt of my life; by what myſterious workings of Providence thou ſaved
