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EPILOGUE.
'Tis
done: VIRTUE is rewarded — VICE has received its punishment.
Said we not, in the very opening of this work, that from
London branched off two roads, leading to two points totally distinct the one
from the other?
Have we not shown how the one winds its tortuous way
through all the noisome dens of crime, chicanery, dissipation, and
voluptuousness; and how the other meanders amidst rugged rocks and wearisome
acclivities, but having on its way-side the resting-places of rectitude and
virtue?
The youths who set out along those roads, — the
elder pursuing the former path, the younger the latter, — have
fulfilled the destinies to which their separate ways conducted them.
The one sleeps in an early grave: the other is the
heir-apparent to a throne.
Yes: and the prophetic words of the hapless Mary-Anne
are fulfilled to the letter; for now in their palace at Montoni, do the hero and
heroine of our tale, while retrospecting over all they have seen and all they
have passed through, devote many a kind regret to the memory of the departed
girl who predicted for them all the happiness which they enjoy!
And that happiness — the world has seen no
felicity more perfect.
Adored by a tender wife, — honoured by her
parents, on whose brows his valour placed the diadems which they wear, — and
almost worshipped by a grateful nation whom his prowess redeemed from
slavery, — Richard Markham knows not a single care.
On her side, — wedded to him to whom her
young heart gave its virgin love, — proud of a husband whose virtues
in peace and whose glory in war have shed undying lustre on the name which he
bears, — blessed, too, with a lovely boy, whose mind already
develops the reflections of his father's splendid qualities, and with a charming
girl, who promises to be the heiress of the mother's beauty, — can
Isabella be otherwise than happy?
Kind Reader, who have borne with me so long — one
word to thee.
If amongst the circle of thy friends, there be any who
express an aversion to peruse this work, — fearful from its title or
from fugitive report that the mind will be shocked more than it can be improved,
or the blush of shame excited on the cheek oftener than the tear of sympathy
will be drawn from the eye; — if, in a word, a false fastidiousness
should prejudge, from its own suppositions or from misrepresentations made to it
by others, a book by means of which we have sought to convey many an useful
moral and lash many a flagrant abuse, — do you, kind reader, oppose
that prejudice, and exclaim — "Peruse ere you condemn!"
For if, on the one side, we have raked amidst the filth
and loathsomeness of society, — have we not, on the other, devoted
adequate attention to its bright and glorious phases?
In exposing the hideous deformity of vice, have we not
studied to develope the witching beauty of virtue?
Have we not taught, in fine, how the example and the
philanthropy of one good man can "save more souls and redeem more sinners
than all the Bishops that ever wore lawn-sleeves?"
If, then, the preceding pages be calculated to engender
one useful thought — awaken one beneficial sentiment, — the
work is not without its value.
If there be any merit in honesty of purpose and
integrity of aim, — then is that merit ours.
And if, in addition to considerations of this nature, we
may presume that so long as we are enabled to afford entertainment, our labours
will be rewarded by the approval of the immense audience to whom we address
ourselves, — we may with confidence invite attention to a SECOND
SERIES of "THE MYSTERIES OF LONDON."
GEORGE W.M.REYNOLDS
THE
END OF THE FIRST SERIES.