"I'm sorry that we have no proofs to offer you," replied I; "she had only bedclothes on when she was taken into the boat, and there is nothing to establish her identity."
"I am content, sar; she must be my daughter. She was in a brig with her mother, and she was saved the very same year that her mother come home. There, sar, look at this picture; it is the same person. I want no more proof—she is my daughter."
Although this was what might be called only collateral proof, I did agree with the old gentleman that it was very strong; at all events, it was sufficient for him, and he claimed Bessy as his child. Had he claimed her to take her away, I might have disputed it; but as he loaded her with presents, and when he died, which he did three years afterward, and left twenty thousand rix dollars, of course I was perfectly satisfied with his relationship.
So much for what has occurred since the time I married; and now, as the reader may, perhaps, wish to know something about the present condition of myself and family, I must inform him that my father and Bramble are still alive, and flourishing under their gray hairs. My sister has four children, and her husband is now a dean: they do say that, from the interest of his patron, he will in all probability be a bishop, a distinction not to be envied in these days, and therefore I do not wish him success. My mother is, however, of the contrary opinion, having been told that her daughter as a bishop's lady will take precedence and be led out before Lady Hercules. Sir James and Lady O'Connor are still well, and as happy as they well can be. Bessy has blessed me with three boys and three girls, now all grown up; but the boys came first. The eldest is a lieutenant in his Majesty's service, the second is a captain of an Indiaman, and the third commands a free trader. They are all well to do, and independent of their father. My girls, who are much younger, have been well educated, and people say that they are very handsome; at all events, they are modest and good-tempered. I have not attempted to conceal what I once was, yet Time has called away most of those who knew me in my profession. I am still considered as having been a seafaring man, but nevertheless, in consequence of my property, I am generally addressed by the title of Squire Saunders. By not assuming a station which does not become me, I find myself treated not only with respect, but with friendship, by those who are in birth, as well as other qualifications, my superiors. My daughters are invited out to all the balls and fêtes in the neighborhood, and are great favorites wherever they go: they all of them are like their mother, not only in appearance, but in temper and disposition. We have plenty of young men who visit the house, and I am afraid that we shall soon have to part with two of them, my eldest, Virginia, being engaged to a ship-builder at Limehouse, and Elizabeth to a young clergyman in the neighborhood. Jane thinks she never will marry, and, as I tell her, I suppose she never will till she is asked. To wind up, I may say that Bessy and I have been very happy, and promise still to be as happy as most people are who pass through this pilgrimage. We have competence—the good opinion of the world—a family who have never caused us one hour's uneasiness (how few can say that?), and we have, I trust, a due sense of God's mercy and kindness toward us, and never lie down in our beds without thanking Him for the many mercies we have received, and acknowledging how unworthy we are to have been so signally blessed.