mightier worlds, is freed from that enchaining control with which the body and all that matter which surrounds it, impedes it when we are awake we all know with what rapidity and luxuriousness of conception it can create, change, and unmake. And yet there is much in the fortunes and fate of Fonthill-much in the wayward energy of Beckford's will-much in the charity of the miser Farquhar, which would have formed a character strange and attractive enough for any courtier of the great Caliph of Bagdad. The moral of the story would be somewhat puzzling, however, which of the two men was the happiest? Was either, or were both unhappy? It is hard to say-Beckford wished to be a subject of wonder, and succeeded. He wished his residence to be different from every other, and there again he was successful. And though it must have given him some feeling of disappointment that the creation of his mind should be the seat of another's very different life; yet Mr. Farquhar, as it eventually happened, possessed Fonthill for so short a time, and it was demolished so soon after he parted with it, and so many years before Mr. Beckford followed him to the grave, that the latter lived to see its last proprietor comparatively forgotten, and the strange glories of that almost ephemeral monastic palace have been, and ever

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will be, connected by the public voice with no name but that of its eccentric architect.

On the other hand Farquhar also was successful. He ardently desired a fortune, and unexpectedly he found one. When he began to become rich, his ambition was to find himself in the ranks of that class which is respected before all others in England, the "Millionaires." And there after a while he took his place, and showed he held it by his purchase of Fonthill. Favoured by Providence with the fulfilment of his hopes and wishes, he desired a means of proving his gratitude; could he have a better one, than the encouragement which his great wealth enabled him to give to the craving impulse which leads the Christian, we must indeed add the human heart, to deeds of charity? It may have been in him a proof of an ill-balanced mind that, though so noble in charities, he was so sordid and penurious where the other expenses of life were concerned ; it may have been a sign of utter selfishness in his predecessor that his profusion and lavishness of money was all done for himself alone. But we do not pretend to judge of the absolute excellence of character which may have marked either individual-we are only considering whether they attained to worldly happiness; and we should guess, where a guess alone is possible, that the gratification of their singularities, tinged

as they were in the one case with avarice, in the other with selfishness, did not take from, but rather add to that happiness of which we speak.

Despite the endeavours of custom, fashion, and law, to force all mankind in these degenerate days to be of one form and cast of mind, at least in essentials, that which brings happiness and pain is as different as possible to each individual. Procrustes, if he lived in our days, would find men willing enough to adopt mechanical or chemical, electrical or magnetical means, to fit, in appearance at least, his tyrannical bed. And we are content, in manners, in dress, and in cant, to be like our fellows. But nature has made us different, and in spite of our often willing efforts, we will never in mind be alike one another. A. shipwreck, a fire, a murder, a revolution, will every now and then show us as we really are: and so will any great rise or sudden fall in our fortunes. The angel and the fiend, the savage and the man of pleasure, may divide the empire over one outwardly and apparently humdrum cockney mind: but in the day of terror or exaltation, at the critical moment when life, reputation or fortune is at stake, there can be but one commander, and our own will, if strong and independent, chance or the will of others if we be weak, will then decide which nature shall henceforth rule the soul. Let us

therefore, before that time comes, (as it may suddenly and to-morrow), study our characters, and learn to curb the bad, and to aid and love the good that is in us.

DEATH OF SIR FRANCIS BURDETT, BART.

THE ancient house of Burdett descended from Hugo de Burdett, a noble Norman who fought under the Conqueror's standard at the Battle of Hastings, is imperishably associated with history, where as founders of priories and religious houses in the days of England's adherence to the ancient faith, knights of their shires, preux chevaliers, and political martyrs, their names are honourably recorded. Amongst the most distinguished, we may particularise Sir Nicholas Burdett, Chief Butler of Normandy and Governor of Evreux, who was slain while gallantly fighting at the Battle of Pontoise in 1440. The sad fate of Thomas Burdett, the son and heir of this gallant knight, in connection with the story of the White Buck of Arrow, is an historical event of never

failing interest. man for an impetuous but natural exclamation upon the loss of a favourite deer, is a foul stain upon the escotcheon of Edward IV.; but, although the story is shrouded in considerable mystery, doubtless he fell a victim to the politics of the times, for the contentions of the roses were still unappeased, and the uncertain tenure of the throne engendered a more than ordinary tyranny. Great litigation followed the attainder and death of this unfortunate gentleman, but perhaps, as a reward for former sufferings, the Burdetts were afterwards permitted to enjoy several centuries of peace, wealth, and honour, their property increasing with every succeeding generation, even down to these unromantic days. We are not, however, justified in altogether denying the existence of a spirit of romance, even in our own busy times, for the melancholy anecdote we are about to relate would at once disprove such an idea.

The execution of this gentle

The political career of the late Sir Francis Burdett is too well known to require much comment. Once the idol of the people, he found that popular favour has its turn; and he long survived the lease of their affections, which he had held for upwards of a quarter of a century.

When, in 1843, Sir Francis had attained his