nt will be in raptures when they find they have the good Dr
Primrose for their guest.' Upon hearing my name, the old gentleman
and lady very politely stept up, and welcomed me with most cordial
hospitality. Nor could they forbear smiling upon being informed of the
nature of my present visit: but the unfortunate butler, whom they at
first seemed disposed to turn away, was, at my intercession, forgiven.

Mr Arnold and his lady, to whom the house belonged, now insisted upon
having the pleasure of my stay for some days, and as their niece, my
charming pupil, whose mind, in some measure, had been formed under my
own instructions, joined in their entreaties. I complied. That night
I was shewn to a magnificent chamber, and the next morning early Miss
Wilmot desired to walk with me in the garden, which was decorated in the
modern manner. After some time spent in pointing out the beauties of the
place, she enquired with seeming unconcern, when last I had heard from
my son George. 'Alas! Madam,' cried I, 'he has now been near three years
absent, without ever writing to his friends or me. Where he is I know
not; perhaps I shall never see him or happiness more. No, my dear Madam,
we shall never more see such pleasing hours as were once spent by our
fire-side at Wakefield. My little family are now dispersing very
fast, and poverty has brought not only want, but infamy upon us.' The
good-natured girl let fall a tear at this account; but as I saw her
possessed of too much sensibility, I forbore a more minute detail of our
sufferings. It was, however, some consolation to me to find that time
had made no alteration in her affections, and that she had rejected
several matches that had been made her since our leaving her part of the
country. She led me round all the extensive improvements of the place,
pointing to the several walks and arbours, and at the same time catching
from every object a hint for some new question relative to my son.
In this manner we spent the forenoon, till the bell summoned us in
to dinner, where we found the manager of the strolling company that
I mentioned before, who was come to dispose of tickets for the Fair
Penitent, which was to be acted that evening, the part of Horatio by
a young gentleman who had never appeared on any stage. He seemed to
be very warm in the praises of the new performer, and averred, that he
never saw any who bid so fair for excellence. Acting, he observed, was
not learned in a day; 'But