and therefore urged upon his nephew, promptitude in the decision he should make.

Danville passed a sleepless night, revolving in his mind what course to pursue; many a scheme of worldly interest presented itself to his mind, and his heart was, alas ! too much the seat of wicked principles, to feel that the path of duty lay alone, where virtue and religion pointed; he cared not how an object might be attained, whether by correct or vicious means, so he might at length possess and enjoy it, not knowing that if possessed, unlawfully, it could never be really enjoyed, and "that there is no peace to the wicked."

For a life of application to business he was totally unfit; a studious existence he completely repudiated, a rural mode of living he detested; what then should he choose? No prayer for direction escaped from his polluted lips; his heart, "regarding iniquity in itself," breathed forth no language of enquiry, "Lord, what wilt thou have me to do?" "Make me

to know the way wherein I should walk." How could such a heart feel, or such lips utter sentiments like these?

At length the idea of entering the army suggested itself to his mind; and as he pondered the desire of his uncle that he should seek for

some profession that might eventually carry him abroad, he deemed it probable that, if he could be furnished with the means for his admission as a soldier, an early season would present itself for his meeting Mr. Newton's wishes in this particular.

On the following morning, Mr. Newton, after his accustomed early stroll amid some of the wild beauties of his favourite Killarney, (for he was a true lover of nature, and from a child had cherished the deepest affection for Irish scenery,) met his nephew in the breakfast chamber, who immediately revealed to his uncle the subject of his recent deliberations, and expressed his wish to embrace the profession of a soldier.

To this proposition his uncle instantly assented; and promised speedily, if possible, to procure him a commission.

No very considerable time elapsed before Mr. Newton, anxious to rid himself of one so uncongenial to his taste, purchased for Frederick a lieutenantcy in a regiment, which was then quartered in one of the principal towns of Ireland.

He had not however been a day in the regiment before his evil disposition began to exhibit itself. He committed an act of indiscretion

for which he was immediately expelled the

corps.

The wrath and vexation of Mr. Newton can be easier conceived than described, on hearing of his nephew's conduct; and after again venting his indignation in a tide of angry words, he told him that, though in the first instance he had left him to choose the course of his future life, he should now take his management into his own care, stating that a friend who was immediately going out in the next ship to the West Indies as a trader, had consented, in case of need, to take charge of him, and to find him. some employment when he arrived.

Shame for his past misconduct, of which feeling Danville began now in some sort to be the possessor, forbade any resistance to this determination of his uncle; so that, ere many days were expired, he found himself on board a ship, which was to convey him across the Western main.

CHAPTER XV.

"Oh! memory, thou fond deceiver,
Still importunate and vain,

To former days recurring ever,

And turning all the past to pain;

Thou, like the world, the oppressed oppressing,
Thy smiles increase the wretch's woe,

And he who wants each other blessing,

In thee must ever find a foe."

GOLDSMITH.

WHILE the events which we have narrated were transpiring in the huge capital of our empire, and amid the romantic lakes of Killarney, the inhabitants of the town of Orpington were anxiously looking forward to the day of the trial, when Hutchinson, the native of their village, was to be led forth with his associates in crime, to bear the penalty which the law should inflict.

The individual who had been robbed and assaulted, and for which offence the prisoners

were to be chiefly tried, still lay in a dangerous and suffering state, from the brutal treatment he had received from Huntley, which latter circumstance would of course greatly aggravate his plunderer's guilt, and cause his punishment to be necessarily severe.

As the day of trial drew near, the mind of this hardened ruffian was the theatre of terribly conflicting emotions. His conscience spoke out at last, and thundered in his ears words which he faintly remembered to have heard when a child: "What fruit have ye in those things whereof ye are now ashamed, for the end of those things is death!" The idea of punishment thrust itself upon him with a greater force than it had ever done before. The on-coming evidence which would be given of his guilt, and the certainty of some fearful penalty about to follow, haunted the spirit of the wretched prisoner. The form of the helpless man he plundered, covered with blood and wounds, stood before him in his dreams. Memory, which had never troubled him much, now heaped before him numberless objects which served to torment his soul. The figures of his parents came up from their silent tombs, and stood gazing to see "whether it were their very son or not." Like Hutchinson, he called