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Alicia and her Aunt.

Mr. Launceston found himself an orphan at a very early age, without any relations save a maiden aunt, with whom he had a very slight personal acquaintance, because she resided at a distant part of the country on a small annuity, whereas he had been born and brought up in the city of Edinburgh.

His education had been good, so far as it had proceeded, and as he possessed sufficient fortune to bring him up to a genteel profession, his guardian recommended him to choose that of medicine. He was a young man of fine person, superior abilities, and engaging address; and to these qualifications he added the better characteristics of sound principles in religion and morals, extensive knowledge, and unquestionable integrity.

Although the Scottish school of medicine ranked very high, yet when young Launceston became of age, he wished to take a more extended view of all that appertained to the practice; and after calculating on his means of doing this, resolved to spend some time in London. He did so for two winters, and greatly improved himself in that knowledge which may be attained by practical observation; and was preparing to return, for the purpose of obtaining the diploma which he now felt that he had a right to demand, when he happened to meet in company a young person, whose extraordinary beauty attracted his eye, and whose perfect simplicity of manners won his affections.

Alicia Powis was, like himself, an orphan; she was also a stranger, having arrived in London but a few days before, from South Wales. She was still in mourning for her father; and he was not long in learning that she was portionless, and dependent on her relations, one of whom had invited her to London, with a specious show of protection, to be little better than an upper servant to a large family, her employments soon becoming more numerous, and her task more difficult than they would have been in any menial situation.

Mr. Launceston's profession leading him frequently into this family, he was a constant witness to the trials, and an admirer of the character as well as person of this young lady, who soon interested him so much, that he delayed his return until he had secured her esteem, and a promise of her hand, so soon as circumstances would enable him to claim it. This important point settled, he returned to Edinburgh—was well received amongst the few acquaintance he had formed—obtained his diploma, and other honourable testimonials of merit—and having taken handsome apartments, commenced his career in life, with every prospect of success.

Having met with more than usual practice, for so young a man, during the first winter, when the gentry of Edinburgh left town for their country seats he set out, with all the impatience of a young and sanguine heart, for the English metropolis, to claim the hand of his affianced bride. She was rejoiced to see him, but she looked pale and thin—far different from the blooming creature he had first beheld her, but yet as lovely as ever; and aware that the air of London, and the many disagreeables she silently endured, had produced the change, he was impatient to transplant her to his own country, and restore her by his tenderness and skill: indeed, as his own profession required his immediate return, and her uncle gave a joyful consent to a marriage which he considered a respectable way of disposing of a burden, no delay was called for, and the young couple were soon on their way home, married, and happy.

This union, although the parties had perhaps ventured upon it too soon, was one of singular felicity: Alicia was not only affectionate, but grateful to her husband for the change in her circumstances; and having the good sense to know that although her husband's rank in life called for genteel appearances, yet that great prudence was necessary, she readily adopted every means of helping him in her power, and was at once an honour to him in the elegance of her person and manners, and a source of economy in the comfortable arrangement of his expenses; whilst he, charmed with all she did and said, found her society equal to all his wishes, and watched with delight the rose of health revisit her cheek, and the light of love and cheerfulness sparkle in her eyes.

Dr. Launceston's practice increased during the following winter, but it was barely equal to his expenditure, as few people choose to trust a young physician; but his situation was rich in well-founded hope. Alas! his prospects were soon clouded—his hopes overthrown; within one year after his marriage, his beloved, his almost idolized wife, died, a few hours after she had given birth to a little girl, and in a manner wholly unexpected.

This stroke was not less sudden than overwhelming, and the unhappy man almost lost his reason for many days; and even when he was enabled to recover a little from the astounding blow, he found himself so utterly lost, wretched, and bereaved, as to be unequal to the duties of his profession—incapable of attending to those who naturally reminded him of his loss; and it appeared as if all the accumulations of his mind, all the energies of his soul, had sunk into the grave with his young and beautiful Alicia; and the sight of her ill fated child served only to renew and sharpen the severity of his affliction.

One gentleman, to whom he had been very successful in his medical attentions, gave to his situation not only the sincere pity which many felt, but those personal attentions and sincere proofs of friendship which it called for. Believing that nothing would so effectually relieve the mourner as a change of scene, and a necessity for some exertion under novel circumstances, he proposed to him to take a voyage to the East Indies, and engaged to procure such recommendations for him as could not fail to ensure the means of fortune, if he chose to settle there, and would increase the circle of his friends in case of his return; also to procure his reception as a surgeon during the voyage, for the purpose of lessening his expenses.

This plan was gratefully acceded to by the afflicted man, and in a short time arranged, although the poor babe, the sole remnant of his Alicia, and the bearer of her name and features, had during the short period of its existence, made a considerable progress in his affections. The child was now with a good nurse in the neighbouring village of Musselburgh, to whom he paid two years in advance, his good friend offering to become the future guardian of the infant. The little property which remained after his outfit, he converted into ready merchandize for his own use upon his landing; and he set sail, with the esteem and good wishes of all who had ever known him.

Dr. Launceston wrote to his friend Mr. Mackinnon from the Cape of Good Hope, and although his style still proved him a prey to painful reflection, this gentleman trusted that he was not a slave to sorrow, and his friendly heart rejoiced in the part he had acted towards him; but within a year he learned, with feelings of bitter anguish, that the ship in which Dr. Launceston sailed was wrecked in the Bay of Bengal, and that neither the property or the life of a single individual was saved, although it sunk within the view of many. At the time this account from his friend at Calcutta reached Mr. Mackinnon, he was far gone in consumption, that being the complaint from which Dr. Launceston had, in a certain degree, relieved him; and the news so entirely overpowered the little strength he had remaining, that, in a few hours after receiving it, he breathed his last.

The little Alicia had just passed her second birthday, when the double death of her friend and her father reached her nurse, and overwhelmed her with consternation. This poor woman had fulfilled her duties to the bereaved little orphan with care and tenderness, but her humble comforts had all been overthrown by the reception of her little guest. The sum of money which Dr. Launceston had placed in her hands being a much larger property than they had ever possessed before, had been seized by the husband, and spent by him in idle and vicious pursuits; and his family were now involved in poverty from his misconduct; and he was awaiting with impatience the day when he could demand a further sum in advance for the helpless little one, whom he declared he would not harbour in his house upon trust, for more than a single week. The poor woman flew in agony to the relations of Mr. Mackinnon, and found that, with the usual delusion peculiar to his complaint, he had confided in amendment, had made no will, and that his large property descended to an heir, who being a mere boy, was incapable of making any provision for the child in question, even if he had the inclination.

Rendered alive to all the means of aid, by the pressing necessity of the case and the brutal threats of her husband, the nurse by turns addressed herself to all whom she considered likely to inform her where the relations of Dr. Launceston and his lady resided; and at length learned, from a woman who had been their servant, the address of that uncle in London, from whose house her late mistress had married. She then procured an intelligent neighbour to write to this gentleman, stating the case; but the appeal was thrice made before any answer was received. In this letter the uncle of Mrs. Launceston declared his utter inability to provide for the child in question; but he enclosed an address to his eldest brother, who being a bachelor, might with much more propriety take other people's children than himself, who was but a younger brother, and burdened with a family of his own.

To the elder Mr. Powis, who was a country gentleman residing on the patrimonial estate, application was made, which was immediately refused, with various invectives against the child's father for having married a girl of no family—reflections upon its mother for having married a Scotchman—and observations on the utter impossibility of a man having anything to do with a young child, who had neither wife nor family.

What was to be done now the poor woman could not conceive, for there are not in Scotland poorhouses, into which desolate children so situated may be put, although the poor are supported by charity; many a tear of pity did she shed on the unconscious babe, and many a fruitless inquiry did she make after English, Welsh, and Scotch relatives; but week after week passed, and no tidings were heard of any.

At this time the aunt to whom I alluded as the only relative of Dr. Launceston, lived, in a neat little cottage near Stirling, on an annuity of forty pounds a-year, which, in that cheap country, was equal to all her wants, and even enabled her to be a person of some little importance in her own circle; but her existence was scarcely known beyond it. She had heard of her nephew's marriage, for he had sent her the usual compliment on that occasion; but, on the death of his young wife, the distraction of his mind had induced him to omit informing her of it until he was on the eve of quitting his country, when he gave her a melancholy account of all that had befallen him in the preceding year—mentioned his future intentions, the situation of his poor babe, the kindness of Mr. Mackinnon—and, lastly, the fact, that before she could receive his communication, he should be on board the Africana East-Indiaman, on his way for Calcutta.

Mrs. Catherine Launceston was a member of the English Church, and as there were very few of that community in Stirling, each party were well known to each other; and in returning home from church one day, she remarked to a neighbour that she was sorry to observe a certain family, of their acquaintance, in deep mourning.

"Yet it were high time they put it on, for it's a gude quarter since the news cam' tul 'em o' their puir son's shipwrack, I'se warrant ye; but they wad needs gae to inquire ower and ower again, in the vain hopes o' finding a true story were a fause one."

"There's naething wonderful in that, neighbour," said Mrs. Catherine, who sincerely sympathized with the mourners, and could readily enter into their feelings.

"Why true—we aw like to turn a deaf ear to a waefu' warning; but still, if the Africana went doon as she did to the bottom o' the girt deep, 'twas no' likely their Tammy suld come back agin."

"The Africana!" exclaimed Mrs. Catherine.

"Aye, sure—that's the very name on't, as ye might ha' read in the Gazetteer lang syne."

Mrs. Catherine hastened to her own house: she opened her bureau, read again the letter of her nephew, sent to the house of a friend to borrow the Gazette, and assured herself of the fact; she then retired to her own room, where she continued several hours; and on coming out of it, announced to her maid, and a neighbour who had stepped in to see her, an intention of setting out for Edinburgh in the morning.

"I fear," said the latter, "something sorrowful takes ye, my gude body; for I weel ken ye have a great avarsion fra sleeping in a strange bed."

"It is a sorrow indeed; the only son of my brother James has lost his life in the Indies."

"Yere brother James, Mrs. Catherine, was e'n a strange brother to you: if it had nae been for the annuity ye gat by your godmother, who was no kin at all, ye wad ha' been badly off."

"This is nae time to remember these things; James died in the flower of his age, and his faults lie under the turf with him. He left a brave boy behind him, and that boy has left a wee bit bantling, without a mother. I must just go seek it, puir lammy."

"But what can ye do with a child, Mrs. Catherine? they'r e'en plaguy things for maiden bodies, and take muckle to rear them, especially girlies."

"I have a heart and hands—though I'm not young, neither am I old: the Heavenly Father who bestows the gift, will doubtless uphold it."

With this hope in her heart, Mrs. Catherine set out on her benevolent errand; and she soon attained the object of her search, whom she found a little, ragged, meagre child, of betwixt two and three years old. The air of squalid dirt and extreme penury which pervaded, at this time, the wretched habitation of the nurse, impressed her with the most unfavourable idea of the people; but the affection which the poor child manifested for its foster-mother, proved at least that personal unkindness had not been added to scanty food and manifest neglect, since she had great difficulty in persuading the poor little orphan to accompany her. All demands upon her purse were paid by Mrs. Catherine, and many necessaries were likewise purchased; after which the new-found relation accompanied her to the cottage, which was destined to be henceforward her pleasant home.