After the death of his master, whose loss afflicted him to the last
degree, one Mrs. Mary Mordant, a gentlewoman of great virtue and
piety, and a very good fortune, took him into her service, and
carried him with her, first to Bath, and then to Bristol, where,
after a lingering distemper, which continued for about four years,
she died likewise.
Upon the loss of his mistress, Dickory grew again exceeding
melancholy and disconsolate; at length, reflecting that death is
but a common debt which all mortals owe to nature, and must be paid
sooner or later, he became a little better satisfied, and so
determines to get together what he had saved in his service, and
then to return to his native country, and there finish his life in
privacy and retirement.
Having been, as has been mentioned, about twenty-four years a
servant, and having, in the interim, received two legacies, viz.,
one of thirty pounds, left him by his master, and another of
fifteen pounds by his mistress, and being always very frugal, he
had got by him in the whole upwards of sixty pounds. This, thinks
he, with prudent management, will be enough to support me as long
as I live, and so I’ll e’en lay aside all thoughts of future
business, and make the best of my way to Cornwall, and there find
out some safe and solitary retreat, where I may have liberty to
meditate and make my melancholy observations upon the several
occurrences of human life.
This resolution prevailed so far, that no time was let slip to get
everything in readiness to go with the first ship. As to his
money, he always kept that locked up by him, unless he sometimes
lent it to a friend without interest, for he had a mortal hatred to
all sorts of usury or extortion. His books, of which he had a
considerable quantity, and some of them very good ones, together
with his other equipage, he got packed up, that nothing might be
wanting against the first opportunity.
In a few days he heard of a vessel bound to Padstow, the very port
he wished to go to, being within four or five miles of the place
where he was born. When he came thither, which was in less than a
week, his first business was to inquire after the state of his
family. It was some time before he could get any information of
them, until an old man that knew his father and mother, and
remembered they had a son was born dumb, recollected him, and after
a great deal of difficulty, made him understand that all his family
except his youngest sister were dead, and that she was a widow, and
lived at a little town called St. Helen’s, about ten miles farther
in the country.
This doleful news, we must imagine, must be extremely shocking, and
add a new sting to his former affliction; and here it was that he
began to exercise the philosopher, and to demonstrate himself both
a wise and a good man. All these things, thinks he, are the will
of Providence, and must not be disputed; and so he bore up under
them with an entire resignation, resolving that, as soon as he
could find a place where he might deposit his trunk and boxes with
safety, he would go to St. Helen’s in quest of his sister.
How his sister and he met, and how transported they were to see
each other after so long an interval, I think is not very material.
It is enough for the present purpose that Dickory soon recollected
his sister, and she him; and after a great many endearing tokens of
love and tenderness, he wrote to her, telling her that he believed
Providence had bestowed on him as much as would support him as long
as he lived, and that if she thought proper he would come and spend
the remainder of his days with her.
The good woman no sooner read his proposal than she accepted it,
adding, withal, that she could wish her entertainment was better;
but if he would accept of it as it was, she would do her best to