A general intercourse and correspondence with all the English Colonies, both on the Islands and the Continent, and with other parts of America, hath been before laid down as a necessary circumstance, the reason whereof is very evident. But this circumstance is hardly to be found. For, on the Continent, where there are neither inns, nor carriages, nor bridges over the rivers, there is no travelling by land between distant places. And the English settlements are reputed to extend along the sea-coast for the space of fifteen hundred miles. It is therefore plain there can be no convenient communication between them otherwise than by sea; no advantage therefore, in this point, can be gained by settling on the Continent.

There is another consideration which equally regards the Continent and the Islands, that the general course of trade and correspondence lies from all those Colonies to Great Britain alone. Whereas, for our present purpose, it would be necessary to pitch upon a place, if such could be found, which maintains a constant intercourse with all the other Colonies, and whose commerce lies chiefly or altogether (not in Europe, but) in America.

There is but one spot that I can find to which this circumstance agrees; and that is, the Isles of Bermuda, otherwise called the Summer Islands. These, having no rich commodity or manufacture, such as sugar, tobacco, or the like, wherewithal to trade to England, are obliged to become carriers for America, as the Dutch are for Europe. The Bermudans are excellent ship-wrights and sailors, and have a great number of very good sloops, which are always passing and repassing from all parts of America. They drive a constant trade to the islands of Jamaica, Barbadoes, Antigua, &c., with butter, onions, cabbages, and other roots and vegetables, which they nave in great plenty and perfection. They have also some small manufactures of joiner's work and matting, which they export to the Plantations on the Continent. Hence Bermudan sloops are oftener seen in the ports of America than in any other. And, indeed, by the best information I could get, it appears they are the only people of all the British Plantations who hold a general correspondence with the rest.

And as the commerce of Bermuda renders it a very fit place wherein to erect a Seminary, so likewise doth its situation, it being placed between our Plantations on the Continent and

those in the Isles, so as equally to respect both. To which may be added, that it lies in the way of vessels passing from America to Great Britain; all which makes it plain that the youth, to be educated in a Seminary placed in the Summer Islands would have frequent opportunities of going thither and corresponding with their friends. It must indeed be owned that some will be obliged to go a long way to any one place which we suppose resorted to from all parts of our Plantations; but if we were to look out a spot the nearest approaching to an equal distance from all the rest, I believe it would be found to be Bermuda. It remains that we see whether it enjoys the other qualities or conditions laid down as well as this.

The Summer Islands are situated near the latitude of thirty-three degrees; no part of the world enjoys a purer air, or a more temperate climate, the great ocean which environs them at once moderating the heat of the south winds, and the severity of the north-west. Such a latitude on the Continent might be thought too hot; but the air in Bermuda is perpetually fanned and kept cool by seabreezes, which render the weather the most healthy and delightful that could be wished, being (as is affirmed by persons who have long lived there) of one equal tenor almost throughout the whole year, like the latter end of a fine May; insomuch that it is resorted to as the Montpelier of America.

Nor are these isles (if we may believe the accounts given of them) less remarkable for plenty than for health; there being, besides beef, mutton, and fowl, great abundance of fruits, and garden-stuff of all kinds in perfection to this, if we add the great plenty and variety of fish which is every day taken on their coasts, it would seem, that a Seminary could nowhere be supplied with better provisions, or cheaper than here.

About forty years ago, upon cutting down many tall cedars that sheltered their orange trees from the north wind (which sometimes blows even there so as to affect that delicate plant), great part of their orange plantation suffered; but other cedars are since grown up, and no doubt a little industry would again produce as great plenty of oranges as ever was there heretofore. I mention this because some have inferred from the present scarcity of that fruit, for which Bermuda was once so famous, that there hath been a change in the soil and climate for the worse. But this, as hath

been observed, proceeded from another cause, which is now in great measure taken away.

Bermuda is a cluster of small islands, which lie in a very narrow compass, containing, in all, not quite twenty thousand acres. This group of isles is (to use Mr. Waller's expression) walled round with rocks, which render them inaccessible to pirates or enemies; there being but two narrow entrances, both well guarded by forts. It would therefore be impossible to find anywhere a more secure retreat for students.

The trade of Bermuda consists only in gardenstuff, and some poor manufactures, principally of cedar and the palmetto-leaf. Bermuda hats are worn by our ladies: they are made of a sort of mat, or (as they call it) platting made of the palmetto-leaf, which is the only commodity that I can find exported from Bermuda to Great Britain; and as there is no prospect of making a fortune by this small trade, so it cannot be supposed to tempt the Fellows of the College to engage in it, to the neglect of their peculiar business, which might possibly be the case elsewhere.

Such as their trade is, such is their wealth; the inhabitants being much poorer than the other Colonies, who do not fail to despise them upon that account. But, if they have less wealth, they have withal less vice and expensive folly than their neighbours. They are represented as a contented, plain, innocent sort of people, free from avarice and luxury, as well as the other corruptions that attend those vices.

I am also informed that they are more constant attendants on Divine service, more kind and respectful to their pastor (when they have one), and shew much more humanity to their slaves, and charity to one another, than is ob served among the English in the other Plantations. One reason of this may be that condemned criminals, being employed in the manufactures of sugar and tobacco, were never transported thither. But, whatever be the cause, the facts are attested by a clergyman of good credit, who lived among them.

Among a people of this character, and in a situation thus circumstantiated, it would seem that a Seminary of religion and learning might very fitly be placed. The correspondence with other parts of America, the goodness of the air, the plenty and security of the place, the frugality and innocence of the inhabitants, all conspiring to favour such a design. Thus much at least is evident, that young students would be there less liable to be corrupted in their morals; and the governing part would be

easier, and better contented with a small sti pend, and a retired academical life, in a corner from whence avarice and luxury are excluded, than they can be supposed to be in the midst of a full trade and great riches, attended with all that high living and parade which our planters affect, and which, as well as all fashionable vices, should be far removed from the eyes of the young American missionaries, who are to lead a life of poverty and self-denial among their countrymen.

After all, it must be acknowledged, that though everything else should concur with our wishes, yet if a set of good Governors and Teachers be wanting, who are acquainted with the methods of education, and have the zeal and ability requisite for carrying on a design of this nature, it would certainly come to nothing.

An institution of this kind should be set on foot by men of prudence, spirit, and zeal, as well as competent learning, who should be led to it by other motives than the necessity of picking up a maintenance. For, upon this view, what man of merit can be supposed to quit his native country, and take up with a poor college subsistence in another part of the world, where there are so many considerable parishes actually void, and so many others ill supplied for want of fitting incumbents? Is it likely that Fellowships of fifty or sixty pounds a year should tempt abler or worthier men than benefices of many times their value?

And except able and worthy men do first engage in this affair, with a resolution to exert themselves in forming the manners of the youth, and giving them a proper education, it is evident the Mission and the College will be but in a very bad way. This inconvenience seems the most difficult to provide against, and if not provided against, it will be the most likely to obstruct any design of this nature. So true it is, that where ignorance or ill manners once take place in a Seminary, they are sure to be handed down in a succession of illiterate or worthless men.

But this apprehension, which seems so well grounded, that a College in any part of America would either lie unprovided, or be worse provided than their churches are, hath no place in Bermuda; there being at this time several gentlemen, in all respects very well qualified, and in possession of good preferments and fair prospects at home, who, having seriously considered the great benefits that may arise to the Church and to Mankind from such an under

taking, are ready to engage in it, and to dedicate the remainder of their lives to the instructing the youth of America, and prosecuting their own studies, upon a very moderate subsistence, in a retirement, so sweet and so secure, and every way so well fitted for a place of education and study, as Bermuda.

Thus much the writer hereof thought himself obliged to say of his associates. For himself he can only say that, as he values no preferment upon earth so much as that of being employed in the execution of this design, so he hopes to make up for other defects, by the sincerity of his endeavours.

* * *

I hope my mother will be able to prevail for me. - But I will recount all, though I sit up the whole night to do it; for I have a vast deal to write, and will be as minute as you wish me to be.

I concluded my last in a fright. It was occasioned by a conversation that passed between my mother and my aunt, part of which Hannah overheard. I need not give you the particulars; since what I have to relate to you from different conversations that have passed between my mother and me, in the space of a very few hours, will include them all. I will begin then.

I went down this morning when breakfast was ready with a very uneasy heart, from what Hannah had informed me of yesterday afternoon; wishing for an opportunity, however, to appeal to my mother, in hopes to engage her interest in my behalf, and purposing to try to find one when she retired to her own apartment after breakfast: but unluckily there was the odious Solmes sitting asquat between my mother and sister, with so much assurance in his looks! – But you know, my dear, that those we love not cannot do anything to please us.

Had the wretch kept his seat, it might have been well enough: but the bent and broad

shouldered creature must needs rise, and stalk towards a chair, which was just by that which was set for me.

I removed it to a distance, as if to make way to my own: and down I sat, abruptly I believe; what I had heard all in my head.

But this was not enough to daunt him. The man is a very confident, he is a very bold, staring man! - Indeed, my dear, the man is very confident.

He took the removed chair, and drew it so near mine, squatting in it with his ugly weight, that he pressed upon my hoop. I was so offended (all I had heard, as I said, in my head) that I removed to another chair. I own I had too little command of myself. It gave my brother and sister too much advantage. I daresay they took it. But I did it involuntarily, I think. I could not help it. I knew not what I did.

I saw that my father was excessively displeased. When angry, no man's countenance ever shows it so much as my father's. "Clarissa Harlowe !" said he with a big voice - and there he stopped. "Sir," said I, trembling and courtesying (for I had not then sat down again); and put my chair nearer the wretch, and sat down my face, as I could feel, all in a glow. "Make tea, child," said my kind mamma: "sit by me, love, and make tea."

I removed with pleasure to the seat the man had quitted; and being thus indulgently put into employment, soon recovered myself; and in the course of the breakfasting officiously asked two or three questions of Mr. Solmes, which I would not have done, but to make up with my father. -"Proud spirits may be brought to" whisperingly spoke my sister to me over her shoulder, with an air of triumph and scorn: but I did not mind her.

My mother was all kindness and condescension. I asked her once, if she were pleased with the tea? She said softly (and again called me dear) she was pleased with all I did. I was very proud of this encouraging goodness: and all blew over, as I hoped, between my father and me; for he also spoke kindly to me two or three times.

Small accidents these, my dear, to trouble you with; only as they lead to greater, as you shall hear.

Before the usual breakfast-time was over, my father withdrew with my mother, telling her he wanted to speak to her. Then my sister and next my aunt (who was with us) dropped away.

I saw what all this was for. I arose; the man hemming up for a speech, rising and beginning to set his splay-feet (indeed, my dear, the man in all his ways is hateful to me) in an approaching posture. "I will save my brother the trouble of bringing to me his curiosity," said I. I courtesied "Your servant, sir!" The man cried, "Madam, madam," twice, and looked like a fool. But away I went — to find my brother, to save my word. But my brother, indifferent as the weather was, was gone to walk in the garden with my sister. A plain case that he had left his curiosity with me, and designed to show me no other.

I had but just got into my own apartment, and began to think of sending Hannah to beg an audience of my mother (the more encouraged by her condescending goodness at breakfast), when Shorey, her woman, brought me her commands to attend her in her closet.

My father, Hannah told me, was just gone out of it with a positive angry countenance. Then I as much dreaded the audience as I had wished for it before.

I went down, however; but apprehending the subject she intended to talk to me upon, approached her trembling, and my heart in visible palpitations.

She saw my concern. Holding out her kind arms, as she sat, "Come, kiss me, my dear," said she, with a smile like a sunbeam breaking through the cloud that overshadowed her naturally benign aspect-"why flutters my jewel so?"

This preparative sweetness, with her goodness just before, confirmed my apprehensions. My mother saw the bitter pill wanted gilding.

"Oh, my mamma!" was all I could say; and I clasped my arms round her neck, and my face sunk into her bosom.

"My child! my child! restrain," said she, "your powers of moving! I dare not else trust myself with you." And my tears trickled down her bosom, as hers bedewed my neck.

Oh the words of kindness, all to be expressed in vain, that flowed from her lips!

"Lift up your sweet face, my best child, my own Clarissa Harlowe ! Oh, my daughter, best beloved of my heart, lift up a face so ever

amiable to me! Why these sobs? — Is an apprehended duty so affecting a thing, that before I can speak but I am glad, my love, you can guess at what I have to say to you. I am spared the pains of breaking to you what was a task upon me reluctantly enough undertaken to break to you."

Then rising, she drew a chair near her own, and made me sit down by her, overwhelmed as I was with tears of apprehension of what she had to say, and of gratitude for her truly maternal goodness to me sobs still my only lan

guage.

And drawing her chair still nearer to mine, she put her arms round my neck, and my glowing cheek wet with my tears, close to her own: "Let me talk to you, my child. Since silence is your choice, hearken to me, and be silent.

"You know, my dear, what I every day forego, and undergo, for the sake of peace. Your papa is a very good man, and means well; but he will not be controlled; nor yet persuaded. You have sometimes seemed to pity me, that I am obliged to give up every point. Poor man! his reputation the less for it; mine the greater; yet would I not have this credit if I could help it, at so dear a rate to him and to myself. You are a dutiful, a prudent, and a wise child," she was pleased to say, in hope, no doubt, to make me so: "you would not add, . I am sure, to my trouble: you would not wilfully break that peace which costs your mother so much to preserve. Obedience is better than sacrifice. Oh, my Clary Harlowe, rejoice my heart, by telling me I have apprehended too much!-I see your concern! I see your perplexity! I see your conflict (loosing her arm, and rising, not willing I should see how much she herself was affected). I will leave you a moment. - Answer me not (for I was essaying to speak, and had, as soon as she took her dear cheek from mine, dropped down on my knees, my hands clasped, and lifted up in a supplicating manner) — I am not prepared for your irresistible expostulation," she was pleased to say. "I will leave you to recollection: and I charge you, on my blessing, that all this my truly maternal tenderness be not thrown away upon you.”

And then she withdrew into the next apartment; wiping her eyes as she went from me; as mine overflowed; my heart taking in the whole compass of her meaning.

She soon returned, having recovered more steadiness.

Still on my knees, I had thrown my face across the chair she had sat in.

"Look up to me, my Clary Harlowe - No sullenness, I hope!"

"No, indeed, my ever to-be-revered mamma." And I arose. I bent my knee.

She raised me. "No kneeling to me, but with knees of duty and compliance. Your heart, not your knees, must bend. It is absolutely determined. Prepare yourself therefore to receive your father, when he visits you by and by, as he would wish to receive you. But on this one quarter of an hour depends the peace of my future life, the satisfaction of all the family, and your own security from a man of violence: and I charge you besides, on my blessing, that you think of being Mrs. Solmes."

There went the dagger to my heart, and down I sunk: and when I recovered found myself in the arms of my Hannah, my sister's Betty holding open my reluctantly-opened palm, my laces cut, my linen scented with hartshorn; and my mother gone. Had I been less kindly treated, the hated name still forborne to be mentioned, or mentioned with a little more preparation and reserve, I had stood the horrid sound with less visible emotion - but to be bid, on the blessing of a mother so dearly beloved, so truly reverenced, to think of being Mrs. Solmes - what a denunciation was that!

Shorey came in with a message (delivered in her solemn way): "Your mamma, Miss, is concerned for your disorder: she expects you down again in an hour; and bid me say, that she then hopes everything from your duty."

I made no reply; for what could I say? And leaning upon my Hannah's arm, withdrew to my own apartment. There you will guess how the greatest part of the hour was employed.

Within that time my mother came up to me. "I love," she was pleased to say, "to come into this apartment. No emotions, child! No flutters! - Am I not your mother? Am I not your fond, your indulgent mother? - Do not discompose me by discomposing yourself! Do not occasion me uneasiness, when I would give you nothing but pleasure. Come, my dear, we will go into your closet."

She took my hand, led the way, and made me sit down by her: and after she had inquired how I did, she began in a strain as if she had supposed I had made use of the intervening space to overcome all my objections.

He is

A young

"Hear me out; and then speak. not indeed everything I wish him to be; but he is a man of probity, and has no vices "No vices, Madam! -" "Hear me out, child. You have not behaved much amiss to him: we have seen with pleasure that you have not "“O Madam, must I not now speak!" "I shall have done presently. creature of your virtuous and pious turn,' she was pleased to say, "cannot surely love a profligate: you love your brother too well, to wish to marry one who had like to have killed him, and who threatened your uncles, and defies us all. You have had your own way six or seven times: we want to secure you against a man so vile. Tell me (I have a right to know) whether you prefer this man to all others? Yet God forbid that I should know you do; for such a declaration would make us all miserable. Yet tell me, are your affections engaged to this man?"

"O Madam, Madam! Kill me not with your displeasure - I would not, I need not, hesitate one moment, did I not dread the inference, if I answer you as you wish. — Yet be that inference what it will, your threatened displeasure will make me speak. And I declare to you, that I know not my own heart, if it be not absolutely free. And pray, let me ask my dearest mamma, in what has my conduct been faulty, that, like a giddy creature, I must be forced to marry, to save me from from what?

Let me beseech you, Madam, to be the guar dian of my reputation! Let not your Clarissa be precipitated into a state she wishes not to enter into with any man! And this upon a supposition that otherwise she shall marry herself, and disgrace her whole family."

"Well then, Clary (passing over the force of my plea), if your heart be free

"Oh, my beloved mamma, let the usual generosity of your dear heart operate in my