mentioned his own illness, he immediately prepared to fet out for Seldon, altho' it was forty miles diftant, and the night dark and lowering. Having haftily apologised to the amiable family at Barham Castle for the fatal neceffity of his sudden departure, he, with a heart weighed down by the moft melancholy prefages, commenced his journey. About the middle of the next day he came within fight of the Parfonage. As he rode up the winding lane that led to his paternal refidence, how different was his state of mind when compared to the time he last travelled that road: gay hope and joy then danced through his youthful blood, and phantoms of future happiness floated in his delighted imagination. Now, fear and difmay oppreffed him, and caft an additional gloom on the leaflefs fterility of

the furrounding scenery. On entering the house he was met by an old domeftic. "How is my father, William?" eagerly demanded he. "Very ill, my dear Master Henry," replied the man, "but I trust he will be better fince you are come; he has been anxious for your arrival.”—On entering his father's chamber, he was fhocked at the ravages which confinement, fickness and forrow, had wrought in his countenance. Feigning, however, a compofure which belied the anguish of his heart, he, after fome tender inquiries, feated himself by the bed-fide. Henry," said Lenox faintly, "I feel

that my

vital fpark is almoft extinct. I once hoped, that when I fhould receive this final fummons of fate, it would have been in my power to leave you a competence; it has happened otherwife:

I

I can leave you nothing. I have received no answer from your grandfather; but as he will foon be your only relative, it is my wifh that you fhould feek his protection; if you fail of fuccefs, He who is a father to the fatherlefs will, I truft, never fuffer you to want." Here Lenox funk, exhaufted, on his pillow, and Henry, unable to fubdue his tears, retired. When he next returned to his father's room, he found him funk in a profound fleep. "It will, I hope, be of fervice," faid he, turning to the phyfician. "I fear the contrary, Mr. Lenox," faid the latter. The prediction was unfortunately true. In a few hours after, Lenox breathed his laft. To defcribe the grief of Henry would be impoffible. thofe alone, in a fimilar fituation, they could be known. For although mirth

B 3

Το

may

may impart its playful hilarity to many a heart, or forrow extract a tear from the eye of pity, agonies of foul are ever incommunicable. Lenox was, by his own request, buried by the fide of his Clara; and Henry, after the last fad obfequies, proceeded to examine the manufcript of his mother, which began as follows:

MANUSCRIPT.

"To you, my child, offspring of my "days of innocence and virtue, are the "following lines addreffed, to warn your "ftill unadulterated heart against the "dreadful confequences which ever at"tend the obedience of irregular paffion, "'Tis useless to pain you with an account "of the feductive scheme which the infa66 mous

mous Fitz-horton too fuccessfully practifed against me; let it fuffice to tell "you, that we proceeded to Florence, "where, by a fplendid retinue and magnificent establishment, he endeavoured to banish the corroding anxiety "which a heart fo ill at ease as mine "must ever feel. For a year he con

tinued, by the most unremitting kind

"nefs, to foothe and divert the melan

choly, which, fpite of every effort, "oppreffed me. From that period, "however, a vifible alteration took

place in his behaviour: he removed "me from our fpacious hotel to a more "retired lodging; was frequently ab"fent, and on his return would treat me "with the moft ftudied indifference. "Many were the hours of poignant re"morfe which this condu&t caufed me.