Transcriber’s Note
  Italic text displayed as: _italic_




[Illustration: Hermit sitting next to hut]




  THE

  _Hermit of the Forest_;

  OR,

  WANDERING INFANTS.

  A RURAL TALE.

  [Illustration: Decoration]

  EMBELLISHED WITH CUTS.

  [Illustration: Decoration]

  _NEWCASTLE_:

  PRINTED BY AND FOR S. HODGSON,

  1807.


  (_Price One Penny._)




_The Hermit of the Forest._


In the romantic forest of Englewood, which formerly composed a great
part of the county of Cumberland, lived a celebrated hermit, whose
name was Honestus. He was once a very considerable farmer, possessed
of very extensive lands, and of large flocks and herds; but the
perpetual inroads of the Scots, who frequently plundered the northern
parts of England, very much reduced him. At last those plunderers
completely ruined him; for, in the last excursion they made on his
estate, they carried off all his family, drove away his cattle, and
set fire to his barns and houses, he himself escaping with great
difficulty. See the representation of this deplorable scene.

[Illustration: Hiding behind tree]

Coming out of his place of concealment the next day, he had the
melancholy prospect of his premises reduced to ashes, and nothing
left him but a cow, two sheep, and a few farming utensils, which
had escaped the hands of the plunderers; but what affected him most
was the loss of his two children, who were carried he knew not
whither.—Happily for him, however, his wife did not live to see this
sad disaster, she having died two years before.

These misfortunes had so powerful an effect upon his mind, that
he determined to take his leave of the busy world, and spend the
remainder of his days in a cell, far from the commerce of mankind.
He therefore drove his only remaining cow and two sheep into the
thickest part of the forest of Englewood, taking with him his
farming utensils.

Having pitched on the spot most suitable to his wishes, he began
cutting down some trees, in order to make a proper opening for the
admission of the air, and to afford pasturage for his cattle. He then
built himself a hut, and was fortunate enough to meet with a spring,
which afforded him plenty of sweet and wholesome water. See how hard
he is at work cutting down the trees.

[Illustration: Chopping down tree]

He passed ten years in this gloomy and solitary retreat, without
seeing or being seen by any human creature. The birds of the air, and
the animals that moved on the earth, were the only witnesses of his
existence. The skins of the animals served him for cloathing, and
the birds of the air entertained him with their harmonious songs;
for, as no mortal hand had ever disturbed them in these remote
and gloomy shades, they were strangers to fear, and therefore, in
some degree, made themselves a part of his family. The nightingale
would enter his hut in the evening, and lull him to sleep with her
plaintive notes; the lark would wake him in the morning, and the
robins would come and feed out of his hands; the cuckow would remind
him of the approach of spring, and the thrush and the blackbird
exerted themselves to amuse him.

One summer morning, about the tenth year of his retreat, as he lay
in bed, he was surprised with hearing the voice, as he thought, of
some human creature. He started up and went to the door of his hut,
where he saw two sweet infants lying on the ground, hand in hand, and
crying.

[Illustration: Hermit in doorway]

Of these two pretty babes, the one appeared to be about three, and
the other four years of age. Honestus no sooner fixed his eyes on
them, than he was struck motionless with surprise, and the children
on seeing him ceased to cry, and stood up.

As soon as Honestus was a little recovered from his surprise, he
snatched up the children in his arms, tenderly kissed them, and as
soon as he had eased his heart with tears, “My good God, (cried he)
great and impenetrable are thy ways, and it is the duty of us mortals
to submit! What can those two sweet babes have done, to be thus
exposed to famine and death in this wild and dreary wood? Can wicked
men, more savage than the fierce and brutish inhabitants of African
desarts, have brought these children here to perish? My dear babes,
how shall I provide for you? Here is no tender mother to hug you
to her bosom! no food that you have been used to! what must be the
feelings of your parents!” This brought to his mind the fate of his
own children, and a flood of tears interrupted his saying any more at
present.

While this scene was passing, the two infants threw their arms around
the neck of Honestus, put their cheeks to his, and played with his
beard. “My dear children, (said he to them) you must be hungry!” He
then set them down on a seat in his hut, and instantly making a fire,
warmed them some milk, and put into it some brown bread; for he had
found the means of growing a little corn.

It afforded some relief to the throbbing heart of Honestus, to see
how contentedly and heartily the pretty children ate of his homely
fare.—While they were thus refreshing themselves, he made them up the
best bed he was able. It consisted, at bottom, of straw; a few leaves
of trees over that, and the coverlid was composed of hare-skins sewed
together.

As soon as they had finished their repast, Honestus laid them down
on the bed he had made, and they soon fell into a sound sleep, which
appeared to him a proof of their having been much fatigued. He
strewed their bed with wild jessamines and roses, and watched over
them like a guardian angel. “How sweet (said he) is the sleep of
innocence! These dear babes have no stings of conscience to disturb
their repose, nor sins to repent of, no thirst after vanity, pride,
or ambition.”

When they awoke, he endeavoured to learn from them what accident had
brought them to his hut; but they could give him no other account,
than that their uncle had brought them into this wood, and riding
from morn to night with them, gave them a piece of gingerbread, and
then left them, saying he would come again to them presently; that
they sat themselves down by the side of a brook, and there ate what
they had, and drank of the stream; that they wandered all night in
the wood, and in the morning arrived at his hut, laid themselves
down at his door, where he found them.

Though Honestus with great propriety suspected that there was some
treachery in the case, yet a ten years absence from the commerce of
the world had so effectually weaned him of every wish to converse
with mankind, that he could not prevail on himself to leave his hut,
to penetrate the wood, and accompany the children to any inhabited
village.

However, he acted the part of a parent to them: he gave them the
best food he could procure, he instructed them in reading, and
taught them, in particular, to pray to God morning and evening, and
to return him thanks even for the scanty meals they received. He
washed them every morning and evening, at his spring; he taught
them to call every thing by its proper name, whether beast, bird, or
vegetable; and, in that very early period of their lives, made them
acquainted with such important truths, as the children of the great
and powerful seldom attain to. See how he is teaching them to read.

[Illustration: Hermit with two kids]

Honestus would frequently tell them stories to amuse them, and among
the rest, one day, related the following.

“There was a shepherd, (said he) who had two sweet lambs, and it
was the principal object of his care and attention to secure them
from the ravenous paws of the wolf, who took every opportunity to
endeavour to seize them; but the care and attention of the shepherd
prevented the wolf accomplishing his wish.—He never went out, without
either locking up his lambs, or leaving his faithful dog to watch
them, under whose protection they were as safe as if he himself was
present.

“It happened one day, that the lambs, finding themselves perfectly at
liberty, and out of the sight of their guardian, determined to have
a ramble over the delightful meadows unknown to their shepherd, and
return in the evening. But alas! the wolf was on his watch, and the
lambs out of the reach of their protector: he fell on them, tore them
to pieces, and devoured them.

“It will be thus with you, my dear children: should you wander far
from this hut, you may lose yourselves in these woods, and no more
find your way home, when you will die with hunger and thirst, and
thus satisfy an idle curiosity at the expence of your lives.”

They promised Honestus, that they would never leave his hut but in
company with him, and, during the time they were with him, they
punctually kept their word. These sweet little children found
themselves highly delighted with the birds, who were so tame as to
fly round them, and would sometimes even suffer themselves to be
stroked by them, for Honestus had taught his children to believe,
that it was wicked to offend these winged innocents.

Honestus however observed, that notwithstanding the chearfulness and
good temper of his little pupils, he frequently caught them crying,
and repeating to each other, “My dear papa! my sweet mama! shall we
never see them again!” This apparent uneasiness of the children was
the subject of many hours meditation in the bosom of Honestus, who
earnestly wished to restore two such good children to their parents;
but this was not to be done without hazarding the possession of his
present retreat.

As he was one morning turning these things in his mind, he was
surprised with the sound of the horn, the cry of dogs, and the shouts
of huntsmen. In short, it was a company of sportsmen, whom a fox had
led a prodigious chase through the forest. Here they are.

[Illustration: Horse and rider]

The sound regularly approached them; and as Honestus and the two
children were standing at the door of the cottage, the little ones
holding their good friend by the hand, a fox, almost spent and worn
out, rushed between them, and took shelter in the hut. This was an
hospitable habitation, where the distressed were sure of finding
relief and protection. Honestus had scarcely time to shut the door,
when the hounds appeared in view followed only by a few horsemen, as
the greater part of the company had long given up the chase.

The dogs, following the scent, made directly up to the door of the
cottage, which was now shut against them. Honestus was at a loss to
conceive how horsemen could reach that place; and they, on their
side, were no less surprised at finding a cultivated spot and a
habitation, where, they imagined, no human being would exist; but the
sight of two such young children greatly perplexed their imaginations.

Both parties continued looking at each other for some minutes,
without attempting to ask a question; but in the midst of this
profound silence, all on a sudden, the two children cried out
together, as it were with one voice, “My dear papa! my papa! my
papa!” In a moment, one of the gentlemen leaped from his horse, and
catching the two children in his arms, bedewed their cheeks with his
tears, but was incapable of uttering a word.

Though Honestus was by no means pleased with having his retreat
discovered, yet he could not but be happy on finding the sweet
children in the arms of their parent, for such he doubted not but he
was. He desired them to sit down on the body of a tree, which he had
felled and placed near the entrance of his cottage.

Mr Simpson, (for such was the name of the father of the two children)
being a little recovered from the first emotions, which so unexpected
a discovery had raised in his bosom, begged Honestus to inform him,
by what means his dear children came under his protection? Honestus
told him all he knew of the business, which could be nothing more
than what has been already related. Mr Simpson took him by the hand,
pressed it tenderly between his, and returned him a thousand thanks;
but this shall not be all (said he), for I will make you happy.”

See how they are all conversing together.

[Illustration: Four people and a dog]

“It is now a twelvemonth and four days (continued Mr Simpson) since
I missed my dear babes. All my inquiries after them were ineffectual.
On the third day after I was informed, that my brother lay at the
point of death, and wished to speak with me immediately. As I
tenderly loved him, I flew to him with all imaginable speed, when he
almost turned me into stone with the following confession.

“You see here an unworthy brother, whom heaven will soon justly
punish with an untimely death.—But, ah! what will be my punishment
hereafter? Forgetful of the ties of blood, I resolved on enjoying
your estate at your death, which I could not while your children were
living. I carried them clandestinely into the forest of Englewood,
where they now undoubtedly lie dead. On quitting the wood, my horse
stumbled, threw me, and gave me a mortal bruise. I cannot hope for
your forgiveness; and what shall I say for myself, when I shall meet
your children before our Maker, which must be the case in a few
moments!”

“Here his voice failed him, he gave a dreadful sigh, and expired.
Judge what must be the state of my mind at this moment? I flew from
the monster, and hastened to Carlisle, where a company of cavalry
were in quarters. The commanding officer ordered his men immediately
to mount, and penetrate every part of the forest; but they returned
unsuccessful, and I gave myself up to despair.

“I formed hunting parties, with no other view, than that I might
perhaps one day discover the melancholy sight of their remains; but
how great is the bounty of heaven to me this day, in restoring them
alive to my arms! Come, my dear friend, you shall have the pleasure
of presenting them to their disconsolate mother.”

Honestus insisted on not going with them: he begged earnestly that
they would leave him there to bemoan the loss of his daughters, and
die in obscurity. However, all his entreaties were to no purpose;
they forced him on horseback, and carried him first to a neighbouring
village, where they shaved him, and dressed him in new apparel.

Honestus was forced to stay some days at Mr Simpson’s, but he refused
almost every kind of sustenance, and his friend fearing he would
starve himself to death, he permitted him to take his leave, and set
out for his hut.

On his return thither, he determined to pay a visit to his former
habitation, shed a tear over its ruins, and for a moment indulge
himself in bewailing on that spot the loss of his dear children. But
the ruins were no where to be found, the ground was covered with a
new building, the lands were in the highest state of cultivation, and
crowded with sheep and oxen.

He entered the farm-yard, and had there stood some time gazing in
wonder and astonishment, when two young women rushed out of the
house, each seizing on one of his arms.

[Illustration: Three people]

They had no sooner hold of Honestus, than one of them cried out “Yes,
yes, it is my dear father!” He looked at them with bewildered eyes,
and then fainted in their arms. It was a long time after he came to
himself before he could utter a word.

At last he stammered out, “Yes, it is my children, whom heaven has
been graciously pleased to preserve to close my eyes in death!”

He continued some days in almost a senseless state; but, by the care
and attention of his daughters, he at last recovered, and consented
to spend the remainder of his days with them. His daughters told him,
that some of their friends had followed the plunderers, rescued them
and part of their property, and that the neighbouring gentlemen had
rebuilt their house and stocked their lands.


THE END.

[Illustration: Decoration]




  Transcriber’s Notes

  pg 7 Changed: melancholy prospect of his premisses
            to: melancholy prospect of his premises

  pg 26 Changed: my inquiries after them were inefectual
             to: my inquiries after them were ineffectual