Page:Records of the Life of the Rev. John Murray.djvu/54

44 industrious; his lady was equally so: she brought her husband no more than one hundred pounds sterling, but she was a portion in herself. Although uncommonly economical, and careful, her charities were yet very extensive; she could assist, she observed, the children of penury, without loss; for her resource was her own augmented industry. When this amiable couple became known to us, they possessed immense wealth; and they had now but two surviving children—daughters. We were passing a pleasant evening in their hospitable dwelling, throwing the eye of retrospection over past scenes, until our hearts were greatly softened. The departed sons, the deceased husband, and father, passed in review; and were alternately the subjects of conversation, and regret. At length, Mr. Little thus addressed us: "I have lost my sons, and I have long viewed you, my young friend, in the stead of my buried children: It is true, I have many nephews, and I am urgently solicited, to receive one of them under my roof; but I do not feel a freedom so to do, although I must absolutely have some one to assist me in the arrangement of my affairs: and I now tender to you, my dear young man, to you, who have so long been beloved by every individual of my family; I offer to you, the place of a son in my house, in my heart. And if you, madam, will consent; and your son, thus sanctioned, will accept my proposal, he shall immediately take possession of the apartment of his deceased friend (my lamented son,) and I shall bless God for thus making up my loss." Mrs. Little, who sat by bathed in tears, most cordially united her solicitations; the offer was too great to be rejected, we accepted it with becoming gratitude, and, what rendered a proposal so liberal abundantly more pleasing, was an appearance, on the part of our benefactors, of having received, instead of conferred an obligation. I attended my mother home, with mingled sensations of pain, and pleasure; pain from the consideration, that I was leaving a family, which I had been accustomed to view as, in a very tender sense, my own; and with which I should never perhaps in like manner again associate; pleasure, from the reflection, that I was entering upon a new scene of life, from which I had a prospect, not only of independence, but affluence. It is true, upon my departure, which took place upon the succeeding morning, I wept bitterly, so did my widowed mother, and her children; and my tears again flowed, upon entering the apartments of my dear young friend, with whom I had passed so many pleasing hours. But, received by my new parents, and sisters, as the dearest of sons, and as