me that you will undertake thus much, and my spirit will know the only consolation it has experienced these many bitter years of my illspent existence." I gave my consent to discharge the trust he confided in me solemnly and truly. He drew from his pocket his tablets and writing materials, and in a few words, drew up a regular bequest of his property to me in case of death, to be employed entirely for charitable uses. After I had read and signed this, he made a copy, which he gave to me. "And now, my friend," he said, taking my hand," in return for your kindness to a de solate being like myself, must I afflict your ears with the sad detail of those occurrences which forced upon me the wandering and woeful life I lead, lest you should adopt the opinion of those, who, understanding me not, deem that insanity directs my steps and regulates the measures I pursue? To the world's opinion in general I am indifferent; I am careless though they call me enthusiast or fool: were I to explain the reasons of my conduct, but few would understand me, or allow their power. You, dear sir, have other feelings, and have a right to know more intimately the being you have relieved. Frequently I have thought to write down the singular vicissitudes of my life, which though not of long endurance has seen many fortunes, but never yet have I succeeded in the attempt: it required too much self possession to write a regular narrative; but, as part of myself-inflicted penance, I will review the errors of my youth, and recall the agonies I inflicted upon a gentle woman, in as con

you

nected a manner as my remorse will permit, that may understand the sacrifice of my entire wealth and energies are scarcely sufficient for the retribution due to her wrongs. We seated ourselves on the steps of the hill overlooking the sea, which shewed bright and sparkling in the "sunny sheen." It was a gentle day of spring; the air smelt bland and wooingly; the pale, sad countenance of my companion seemed the only thing forlorn in nature: I could perceive he felt the beauties of the scene and season; he uncovered his head, and bared his bosom to the wind; but, as if recalling himself from something too pleasant, he laid his forehead on his hand, and resting the elbow upon his knee, began the following relation.

T

TALE THE SEVENTH

AND LAST.

THE NARRATIVE OF RAYMOND.

Nor, to say truly, was he slow in common
To accept the attentions of this lovely woman;
But then, meantime, he took no generous pains,
By mutual pleasing to secure his gains.

In short, the enjoyment of his own good pleasure,
Was thanks enough and passion beyond measure;

And, to his own omissions proudly blind,
O'erlooked the pains she took to make him kind;
And yet be angry if he found them less.
He found reproaches in her meek distress;
Forcing her silent tears, and then resenting;
Then almost angrier grown from half repenting.

She, dying,

Shall be lamented, pitied, and excused,

Of every hearer; for it so falls out,

STORY OF RIMINI.

That what we have we prize not to the worth
Whiles we enjoy it; but being lacked and lost,
Why, then we rack the value, then we find
The virtue, that possession would not show us
Whiles it was ours: so will it fare with Claudio ;
When he shall hear she died upon his words,
The idea of her life shall sweetly creep
Into his study of imagination,

And every lovely organ of her life

Shall come apparel'd in more precious habit,
More moving delicate, and full of life,

Into the eye and prospect of his soul,

Than when she liv'd indeed:-then shall he mourn
(If ever love had interest in his liver,)
And wish he had not so accused her;

No, though he thought his accusation true.

SHAKESPEAR.

Ir is generally allowed, that we usually inherit the good or bad dispositions of our parents; either improving upon the original stock, or carrying the predominant vices and failings to a dreadful completion. Thank God, I have no offspring, lest the race of Inkles should be perpetuated from my root. This I mention, that you may understand I date my wilful and headstrong propensities partly to constitutional defects inherited from my parents. My father was the younger of two brothers, whose family falling into decay, obliged the elder to embark in mercantile concerns, and Leandro (my father) to accept of a situation as tutor in the Duke of S-'s family. Hitherto he had lived in luxury and retirement, amidst the country and its eulogist poetry-he was an enthusiastic admirer of both-and but ill-qualified for dependence and the irksome duties of a teacher: his task was, however, but a light one. A sickly and only son was his pupil, who required little other of him than an agreeable companion. After a short time, Leandro found that he could lead nearly as easy a life as that he had hitherto passed in the house of his father, or

at college. The young Lord Basil cared little for dry, hard study, and preferred listening while his tutor read aloud. By this means, Leandro not only enjoyed his favourite authors, but succeeded in giving his pupil an almost equal relish for their beauties.

While in town, they lived nearly apart from the rest of the family, on account of the young nobleman's delicate state of health, which forbade a participation in late hours and crouded assemblies: but in the country, their studies were frequently interrupted by attendance upon the ladies parties. The Lord Basil had two sisters, both older than himself, conscious of ducal state and youthful beauty, as ever were haughty dames; especially the elder, lady Amaranth, would frequently chide her sister Rosabelle, in that she departed from her dignity by talking so familiarly with the handsome tutor, who, though a gentleman and an accomplished scholar, lacked the advantages of title and exalted birth. It was remarked, nevertheless, that her ladyship was frequent in her visits to the library, where her brother usually sat of mornings, and that, when there, she seemed in no hurry to depart, having either some book to seek, or some passage to be explained therein; and that one evening she swooned outright upon hearing Leandro had been thrown from his horse, and his arm dislocated. Whether the duke perceived these symptoms, or conceived his son to be losing time over other books than Machiavelli or the Polite Miscellany; but, rather suddenly, he informed his literary dependant, that although Basil and him