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You gained some advantages the May after; but were so harassed at Turcoign, that you were obliged to retreat into Flanders. Then, after having been beaten at Boatch, you had had enough of it, so you returned to England. This was an inglorious campaign.'

"You speak very freely, Sir Ralph," said the bronze figure, rather haughtily. In your life time you could not have spoken so it would have cost you your commission."

"I know it well," was the reply; "but being a statue, I can say what I like without offence. Statues have vast privileges." "So it appears," added the Duke, laconically.

"Your second campaign in 1799," proceeded the voice from St. Paul's Cathedral," was not without its disasters, too. I was present, and not only saw them all, but had some hard work to do into the bargain.'

When I

"Well, Abercromby," said his Royal Highness at Carlton-house Terrace, with an air of frankness and conciliation, "I confess you did your duty like a brave and skilful officer. You repulsed the French admirably just before you took up your position on the canal between the Zuider Zee and the North Sea. arrived in person, and was joined by 17,000 Russians, I expected to have done well. When we came to a general engagement with the French, it is true I drove them back by hard fighting. The Russian division, that had to advance along the sand hills by the coast was repulsed; but your division was the only one that did the work assigned to it. I think I lost 5,000 men in this battle; and I had previously lost 7,000, when I was beaten by Le Brun at Bergen. But the French were not our only enemies. We had much to contend against in respect of a difficult country to traverse, and a villainous climate. As for you, you had a long career of glory after these things were over, and I had returned to England."

"I? oh, yes!" said the marble; "I had served in the West Indies; and with some credit, too, let me observe, though I say it as shouldn't say it; and historians have committed the error of asserting that I then served against the United States during the revolutionary war; but this is wrong. It was not me; it was my brother, Sir Robert. I came home, was made a Knight of the Bath, and Governor of the Isle of Wight. I then took the command in Ireland. By-the-bye, I got regularly snubbed over there. I ventured to remonstrate with the English Government on their policy towards that country, so they gave me the sack. Don't tell. They then sent me to Scotland. In 1801, I went to Egypt, where I got shot, and was succeeded in the command by Lord Hutchinson. My body was carried to Malta in Lord Keith's flag-ship; and was buried in the Commandery of the Grand Master. My country made my widow a Peeress, and

gave a pension of 2,000l. a year, to be enjoyed by three or four of my heirs. As for my monument in St. Paul's Cathedral, it is one of Westmacott's most successful works. My horse is rearing up in the most spirited manner. The sphinxes, flanking the pedestal, indicate the country where the scene lies; there is the subdued enemy grasping the French standard; and myself, I am fainting, and falling off my horse into the arms of a Highland soldier. The whole group is twice as natural as nature, and that is very natural.” "That trooper

"I should think so," said the Duke of York. with the mud-lark's boots," he added, "is still gossiping with the pretty nursemaid. He looks as happy as if he hadn't got a care in the world."

Hang him, lucky dog, his debts are paid," rejoined Sir Ralph. "Would all of us could say as much."

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"That's an insinuation," observed the other statue. "Soon after I was put upon this column, some one had the impertinence to say that I had been put so high in order to be out of reach of my creditors. Dr. Carus quotes this in his tour. But that reason does not hold good; for if the statues of any of my creditors have anything to say to my statue, they have only to pay sixpence, and come up the winding staircase inside the column. Everybody knows it was my wish that they should be paid; and I left money to liquidate all just claims. The state of things ought to have been amended, and Lord Liverpool, in referring to them, exclaimed, This is too bad!' I was a frank, good tempered, open-hearted, thoughtless man, of whom everybody took advantage. The world is never charitable enough to make allowances for the temptations by which a prince is ever surrounded from his infancy. Like all others of my rank, I was brought up with the most expensive habits; and, consequently, I had never been taught the real value of money. I was coaxed, and praised, and flattered, and blinded, till I scarcely knew whether I was human or divine. No one could presume to thwart a prince, even in his most outrageous whims; and, therefore, if I ever showed a bent towards error in any direction, it was immediately given way to. Thus, I grew fond of the turf, and fond of play; but being by nature candid and undesigning, I was not rogue enough to make money by my ventures. But I fell in with sharpers, and they took advantage of me. I staked my villa in the park, and lost it: some say to the late Lord Melborne, but I tell no tales. I also lost that magnificent estate, Alerton Maliveror, in Yorkshire. But the jewels that I left, which Sir Herbert Taylor whipped off to Windsor, were worth 150,000. My executors got 1,1037. from Hughes Ball; and 75,1957. 4s. 6d. from other sources. This, however, was not much, when I mention that my debts amounted to 201,5857. 16s. 6d."

Aug., 1846.-VOL. XLVI.—NO. CLXXXIV.

2N

"But

"Not much, certainly," said the figure of Sir Ralph. the finances of your Royal Highness were comfortably augmented when you were appointed custos of your father at 10,000. a year, and only to get into your carriage and roll down to Windsor once a week."

"Exactly; but that was only an income for life."

"True; but Colonel Wardle, in the House of Commons, charged you with selling commissions in the army--"

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'It was all Mrs. Clarke-every bit of it was Mrs. Clarke." "Verily, these Mrs. Clarkes seem to be sad creatures. Somehow or other, there is never any mischief done but there is sure to be a Mrs. Clarke at the bottom of it. Mrs. Clarkes are like female Mr. Nobodies. They do all the mischief which cannot be otherwise accounted for."

"So free did I feel myself from guilt, and so little did I fear the most searching investigation, that I utterly contemned Colonel Wardle's accusations; and although I could easily have stopped them and crushed my calumniators, I rather gave every facility for the fullest inquiry. Read my Posthumous Letter,' page so-and-so, and you will there see that I neither shrink from speaking of myself, nor of Mary Ann Clarke either. I call her affection for me' an infatuated and infatuating connexion,' and my conduct towards her a careless and most unguarded confidence.' Again, I say-The charges against me spring out of the consequences of an unsuspecting and too artless a disposition.' Mary Ann was a cold-hearted and intriguing woman.' It was said that I enriched myself by the sale of commissions through her agency; and that those who wished to get on in the army had only to make friends with her. Whether she trafficked for her own benefit I cannot tell, but certainly I got the blame. 'I could not believe,' as I elsewhere say in my letter, and did not imagine, that in a character which appeared all frankness, and seemed never more pleased than in endeavouring to oblige and render services, evidences of good temper and kind disposition were but the cloaks of a cold, and calculating, and venal mind, of which I became the dupe.' But my worst enemies never said that I ever appointed improper persons, even through her recommendation. All I helped on did honour to the profession; and, therefore, I write Thus the extreme point of accusation would extend to this-that by means of an acquaintance with Mary Ann Clarke, some few were brought under my notice sooner than, without such means, they otherwise might have been.' This was all."

"Still," returned Sir Ralph, "the principle was a bad one. Besides, whenever a person forms a liaison with a chère amie, I never like to see him try to throw blame upon her for any improper transaction that arises out of the connexion. Men seek to form these connexions rather than women. Women would

go on well enough if the men would let them alone. Nature has given to man the privilege of making the first advance, and he generally makes it; so that whatever evils arise out of the connexion, he is the one originally to blame, and I think he ought to take all responsibilities on himself."

"You stick up for the women."

But

"I do; and what I now say I believe to be correct. stop: I see a group of visitors who have just paid their twopence each at the door, to look round the Cathedral. They are approaching my monument with their guide-books wide open, for which they have given sixpence. They will be surprised to hear a voice issuing from Abercromby's figure. I had better keep a discreet silence just at present."

"Ay! hold your tongue," said the Duke, agreeing in this sentiment. 66 They will think Balaam's ass has come to life again. Look sharp, and take no notice."

And when the visitors gazed upon Sir Ralph's statue, they said it would have been a speaking likeness, if it could only have uttered a word.

THE YOUNG MENDICANT.

BY MRS. EDWARD THOMAS.

"Hope leads us on, nor quits us when we die."

POPE.

THE past! how she rejoices it is gone,

It was so isolated, so forlorn ;

So fraught with struggles, heart-exhausting woe-
Poverty, life's most inveterate foe.

That worst of evils, scarcely sympathized

By the more prosp'rous world; unharmonized

With all that ruffles its serenity,

Or breaks its calm of self-complacency.

It is a vulgar error in its eyes

To think of, pity, human miseries;
Absorbed in selfishness, it nothing gives,

But for itself ignobly, basely lives.

Yet poverty hath one redeeming good,
E'en by its victims little understood;
The pang of retrospection is not theirs,
The joys that flee, the e'er-abiding cares--
Remorse for wealth and talent misemployed—
The inward peace and outward health destroyed.
While, oh! the torturing fiend, satiety,
Sends sick'ning nausea to each luxury!
Their hard-earned morsel, like Apician treat,
The unpalled appetite renders most sweet;
While conscience sanctifies each thought and dream,
Serene as halcyon, haunting summer stream!

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Oh! what to want, the hourly sad probation,
To the more buoyant up-springing elation,

Which breaks, like sunlight, round the weary heart,
And health, and strength, felicity impart?
Grief may be felt: its bitter tears be shed,

And wo, unutterable, bow the head;

And hunger pinch the worn and wasted frame:

Yet Hope, 'mid all, emits its lambent flame.

Benignant lustre! beneficial ray!

To chase the gloom of wretchedness away!
Enkindled by a Providence Divine,

For the Unfortunate ALONE to shine!

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