by his arguments and
entreaties, and they consented to take upon themselves, and divide
between them, the care of her subsistence and happiness. They
condescended to express much curiosity respecting me, and some interest
in my welfare, and promised to receive me, on my return, on the footing
of a friend.

With some reluctance, I at length bade my new friends farewell, and
returned to Philadelphia. Nothing remained, before I should enter on my
projected scheme of study and employment, under the guidance of Stevens,
but to examine the situation of Eliza Hadwin with my own eyes, and, if
possible, to extricate my father from his unfortunate situation.

My father's state had given me the deepest concern. I figured to myself
his condition, besotted by brutal appetites, reduced to beggary, shut up
in a noisome prison, and condemned to that society which must foster all
his depraved propensities. I revolved various schemes for his relief. A
few hundreds would take him from prison; but how should he be afterwards
disposed of? How should he be cured of his indolent habits? How should
he be screened from the contagion of vicious society? By what means,
consistently with my own wants and the claims of others, should I
secure to him an acceptable subsistence?

Exhortation and example were vain. Nothing but restraint would keep him
at a distance from the haunts of brawling and debauchery. The want of
money would be no obstacle to prodigality and waste. Credit would be
resorted to as long as it would answer his demand. When that failed, he
would once more be thrown into a prison; the same means to extricate him
would have to be repeated, and money be thus put into the pockets of the
most worthless of mankind, the agents of drunkenness and blasphemy,
without any permanent advantage to my father, the principal object of my
charity.

Though unable to fix on any plausible mode of proceeding, I determined,
at least, to discover his present condition. Perhaps something might
suggest itself, upon the spot, suited to my purpose. Without delay I
proceeded to the village of Newtown, and, alighting at the door of the
prison, inquired for my father.

"Sawny Mervyn you want, I suppose," said the keeper. "Poor fellow! He
came into limbo in a crazy condition, and has been a burden on my hands
ever since. After lingering along for some time, he was at last kind
enough to give us the slip. It is just a week since he drank his last
pint--and _d