Oh! he was the sweetest, comeliest, best-conditioned babe!--I loved not my own Greaves with greater affection--but he, alas! is now no more!" "Have patience, good neighbour," said the landlady of the White Hart, "that is more than you have any right to affirm--all that you know of the matter is by common report, and common report is commonly false; besides, I can tell you I have seen a list of the men that were killed in Admiral P----'s ship, when he fought the French in the East Indies, and your son was not in the number." To this intimation she replied, after a considerable pause, "Don't, my good neighbour, don't feed me with false hope .-- My poor Greaves too certainly perished in a foreign land--yet he is happy;--had he lived to see me in this condition, grief would soon have put a period to his days." "I tell you then," cried the visitant, "he is not dead.

I have seen a letter that mentions his being well since the battle.

You shall come along with me--you are no longer a prisoner, but shall live at my house comfortably, till your affairs are settled to your wish." The poor widow followed her in silent astonishment, and was immediately accommodated with necessaries.
Next morning her hostess proceeded with her in the same cautious manner, until she was assured that her son had returned.

Being duly prepared, she was blest with a sight of poor Greaves, and fainted away in his arms.
We shall not dwell upon this tender scene, because it is but of a secondary concern in the history of our knight-errant.

Let it suffice to say, their mutual happiness was unspeakable.