conceal her infant from every curious eye. This promise appeared to relieve her mind; and she assured them that on their adherence to it, not only her own life but that of the hapless babe's depended.

After some more conversation she arose to depart, having presented Josepha, the elder peasant, and her daughter Catalina, with a purse of gold, as a reward for their kindness and humanity. She could not, however, though she said it was of the utmost consequence that she should instantly hasten away, resist lingering to look at the child and weep over it; then apparently making the most painful effort to snatch. herself from beholding this object so dear to her, she walked as quickly as her trembling limbs would permit her, from the habitation of the peasants, without once turning her head to look back again; as if she dared not trust her eyes to review the spot where the sweet babe remained, from whom she had so reluctantly torn herself.

Josepha and her daughter gazed after her till she was no longer discernible; and lamented to each other, that this young and charming lady should thus carly in life be the prey of grief. The whole transaction had been quite unexpected, and the compassion they felt so great, that it had left them no moments for reflection; but now that they had time to think, they blamed their imprudence, in not requesting the lady, whom they concluded to be the mother of the infant, to inform them of her name and place of abode; as they could have assured her, with truth, that they would preserve the most inviolable secresy.

From her graceful manners, elegant dress and velvet, shoes, (which at the period of this narrative were only worn in Portugal by females of distinction,) they had no doubt of her being a person of consequence; and conjectured that she was probably the daughter of some Grandee, who had either dishonored her family, or was married clan

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clandestinely; most probably obliged by a cruel necessity to place confidence in strangers, or otherwise risk exposing the life of her infant or the man she loved, to the resentment of her enraged relatives: for in that warm region, where revenge and jealousy are predominant passions, the blood of the offender was generally sacrificed to the wounded honor of those he had disgraced.

The peasants had at first been alarmed, from the apprehension that the child might be left for them to maintain; but they considered again that this circumstance was very improbable, if their conjectures were well-founded; as leaving the infant unprovided for, would lead to many inquiries, and end most likely in the discovery of the author of its being.

While these and various other thoughts floated in their minds, the little babe had not been neglected; and to still its feeble

cries, that seemed a mournful presage of the misfortunes to which, in all probability, it was destined, from its extraordinary and melancholy introduction to them, they moistened its lips with some warm goat's milk, and soon composed it to rest, as it appeared a quiet, good-tempered infant.

Contrary, however, to the assertions of the lady, no one came that night to fetch it away; yet they were not alarmed, as they considered that some particular event might have happened, to prevent her sending for the child at the time she had appointed. Several days, however, elapsed, and no intelligence reaching them, they began to be seriously uneasy at having, poor as they were (for they subsisted entirely by washing and spinning) an infant to support who had no claim on them, and gave them considerable trouble, impeding either one or the other from pursuing the avocations by which they supported themselves.

In this painful and perplexing dilemma, they knew not any chance of relieving themselves, but by applying to an English lady of fashion, who employed them to wash for her, and resided at a quinta not far from their habitation.

This lady had left England in a very indifferent state of health, and did not intend returning to it till quite recovered. The benevolent actions she had performed amongst the neighbouring poor, inclined Josephia and her daughter to hope she would, when acquainted with the story, take the deserted infant under her protection. This they earnestly wished might happen, being much interested in its fate; and thinking it more eligible for the child to be under this lady's care, and indebted to her for support, than if they provided for it themselves; which they were only capable of doing in a very confined manner, inferior and undeserving, they were convinced, of its birth.