"Discharge my request—and then, may the bark of your "fortunes float lightly on an unruffled sea, waited by the "spicy gales of Happiness and guided by the faultless "rudder of Wisdom; and, when it has reached its quiet "home, when the hands of the numberless Hours have "unladen it of all its cargo, and the worms of Age "have battened on its timbers, may it be drawn upon the "dry sands, there to moulder slowly in the blessed sun-- shine, till it sinks into a quiet and unlamented oblivion— "is the prayer of your "affectionate,

"shame-broken,

"and, when this final epistle is consigned
"to its destination,

"your defunct aunt,

"MARY LEVIS."

"P. S. I indite this under the mournful expectation "that I shall leave this life before your uncle ; for, though "his infirmities fast press upon him, he is stable and wea"ther beaten, and, even as the rock, only to be agitated "from his petrous fundamental part by the uninterrupted -• washing of the surges which beat upon his rugged and "sea-weedy front: but that nebulous assassin, the sud"den Apoplexy, stands muffled in obtenebration, and stabs "at me with his remorseless, thirsting dagger, and some "day will come upon your poor aunt, "like a thief in the "night, and when no man knoweth it," and, brandishing "in mid air his gleaming steel, inhume it deep in her "mammary region, and plunge her headlong into utter • • darkness and the valley of the shadows of dissolu"tion."*

Thus had my aunt suffered herself to be suspected of one of the foulest crimes, rather than have her maiden character reproached for what had been perhaps the error of youth, or the crime of another. O, strange sex !— or rather, O strange laws that regulate its outward qonduct:—the adulteress, if not respected, is at least tolerated; but the poor maiden, who once falls, where the way is so slippery, and the feet so unstable, becomes forthwith an outcast from Society, denied even the chance of amendment! •

The circumstances attending my aunt's death were as follows :—She was on her way to her husband's apartment, when a servant came running to inform her, that my uncle had been suddenly attacked with the gout in his stomach, and that, if she wished to see him before he died, she must go to him immediately. The servant, having delivered his message, was leaving her, when my aunt, probably aware of an approaching fit, called to him to "Wait"—extending her hand for him to support her. The servant turned, and she fell dead into his arms. And this single word rumour magnified to seven :—" Tell him to wait till I come!"

I have but to add, in this chapter, that I found some difficulty in effecting a reconciliation with my uncle Timothy. The Doctor at first treated me with the most unequivocal contempt; but when, burning with indignation, I proudly referred him to the merchants, my late employers, for an account of the correctness of my conduct while in their office, and to friends of so high a character as Sir James Maitland and Lady Arne, he extended me his hand, and said.:—" Now then, I may rejoice at your fortune. He only is fitted to possess wealth, who is willing to labour for it, and has morals to use it rightly,"

CHAPTER XXXV.

Come hither, Harry; sit Hum by my bed,
And bear, I think the very latest counsel
That ever I shall breathe.

• Second Ft. Hen. ir.

After the opening of the will, one of the first things that occurred to me was to visit my father (who, much to my own and my uncle's surprise, had not been present even at the funeral); for I longed to expiate my past neglect, and make my parents participators in my affluence. Reader! if you are yet young, or unaccustomed to analyze the motives of human actions, I fear I shall awake your scorn against me by the confession I am now about to make; but the resolution I have formed to set before you, in their true proportions, the lights and shadows of my character, even though the picture should thereby present a gloomier scene than ever the pencil of Caravaggio did depict, obliges me to state, that my motives to this step were barely more than a desire to show the inhabitants of my native village, that I had not only lived to falsify their predictions, but could exercise a virtue rarely to be met with in those of my age, inasmuch as I forgot not, in the day of my prosperity, the hand that reared me. Sorry am I to say that I stand not alone guilty of this for. gery on virtue ;—assay the actions of all other men in the same crucible, and whose shall be pronounced pure gold 1 Virtue, with the most of people, is not the effect of principle, but the fear of the consequences of vice. Take away the reputation of Honesty, and his portliness will quickly dwindle down, till nothing be left

the wretch but his bare skeleton and I am much mis.

taken, if the bones themselves be slow of following. No man putteth his light under a bushel; he had rather do without candles at all than be debarred from seeing them shine. The world's laugh as often drives us to good as it does to evil;—Shut but its eyes, that it may not overlook us, or close but its ears, that it may not overhear us, and what a pretty pack of rascals we should become!

In pursuance of my intentions, I set out for my father's. I arrived there towards the evening of the next day.— On entering the house the first person I met was Meg Handy, going up stairs with a bowl of gruel in her hands. She knew me at once. .

"Eh!" she screamed, letting fall the bowl in her surprise; "Why, my baby! is that you? you, your own self? Let old Meg look at you. Why, you're just the same tight little fellar you was, when you used to cut capers here five years ago! only much more handsomer, and more like a man, as I may say. And now you're a great man, and got your uncle's fortune—and you may thank old Meg for that!—you hav'nt forgot your father I see O, there's his gruel spilt all over, and good for nothing! What'll he say? But I can make him some

more. And so"

And so the old helpmate of Lucina would have run on for an hour, had I let her; but I managed at last to thrust in a word—" And where is my father, nurse?"

"La, now, I thought you.d come on purpose to see him! He's sick a bed, child. I was carrying that gruel up to him—but"—

"And my mother?"

"Your mother?" screamed Mrs. Handy, in the utmost surprise.

"Yes, my mother—where is she?"

"Your mother?" Meg repeated, and looked at my black clothes,—" And are these only for your uncle?" I comprehended her at once; and, though my mother had never won my esteem, the'tenderness of affection she had always evinced for me, contrasted as it was with the un. bending harshness of my father, could not but meet with some return of attachment; and though that attachment, by long disuse, had moulded till scarcely a spot remained of its primitive colour, yet the sudden announcement of her death, at the very moment when I thought to be folded in her warm embrace,came upon me with a shock so violent that for a second my senses were completely paralyzed.

"Great God! my mother gone too!" -I exclaimed, covering my face with my hands.

Meg gently drew me to a chair. "Set down," she said, affectionately patting my arm, "set down, deary, and compose yourself. There—I'm Bi>re I wouldn't have said any thing about it, if I hadn't have thought you knew it all. Mr. Levis wrote a letter to your uncle. I wonder he didn't tell you, child."

"How long since was that?"

"As much as a month ago.—You see, my baby"

"I have been absent for more than that time; and thus—I have missed of hearing"

I was interrupted by a voice from above stairs, calling to Meg—" Mrs. Handy! Mrs. Handy!"

"Coming, coming!" cried Meg—then whispered to me, "Run up to your father, child, and keep him talking till I can make some more gruel for him—he's wanting it now.—Coming, Mrs. Betty!— You see, my baby, they've got old Meg to nurse grown folks at last. I don't like it as well as my old business ; but times are dull now in our village ;—you must get married, child, and make them

brisk again. I'll be there in a minute, Mrs. Betty!"

and off ran my quondam nurse to the kitchen.

It was with a throbbing heart that I ascended the stairs to my father's bed-room. Betty was standing near the half-open door, and, seeing me, screamed, " Mercy on me, Master Jerry!" My father heard her; for instantly a faint, tremulous voice, from the apartment, exclaimed— "My son!" At this name, which education makes so