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**** “But as to the higher part of education, Mr Harley, the culture of the mind;-let the feelings be awakened, let the heart be brought forward to its object, placed in the light in which nature would have it stand, and its decisions will ever be just. The world
“ Will smile, and smile, and be a villain ;"
Ye know, though I cannot express,
Why I foolishly doat on my pain ; Nor will ye believe it the less
That I have not the skill to complain. I lean on my hand with a sigh,
My friends the soft sadness condemn ; Yet, methinks, though I cannot tell why,
I should hate to be merry like them. When I walk'd in the pride of the dawn,
Methought all the region look'd bright: Has sweetness forsaken the lawn?
For mcthinks I grow sad at the sight. When I stood by the stream, I have thought
There was mirth in the gurgling soft sound; But now 'tis a sorrowful note,
And the banks are all gloomy around ! I have laugh'd at the jest of a friend ;
Now they laugh, and I know not the cause, Though I seem with my looks to attend,
How silly! I ask what it was !
They sing the sweet song of the May,
They sing it with mirth and with glee ; Sure I once thought the sonnet was gay,
But now 'tis all sadness to me.
and the youth, who does not suspect its deceit, will be content to smile with it.-His teachers will put on the most forbidding aspect in nature, and tell him of the beauty of virtue.
“I have not, under these grey hairs, forgotten, that I was once a young man, warm in the pursuit of pleasure, but meaning to be honest as well as happy. I had ideas of virtue, of honour, of benevolence, which I had never been at the pains to define; but I felt my bosom heave at the thoughts of them, and I made the most delightful soliloquies. It is impossible,' said 1, that there can be half so many rogues as are imagined.'
“ I travelled, because it is the fashion for young men of my fortune to travel: I had a travelling tutor, which is the fashion too; but my tutor was a gentleman, which is not always the fashion for tutors to be. His gentility indeed was all he had from his father, whose prodigality had not left him a shilling to support it.
“I have a favour to ask of you, my dear Mountford,' said my father, which I will not be refused. You have travelled as became a man; neither France nor Italy have made any thing of Mountford, which Mountford before he left England would have been ashamed of: my son Edward goes abroad; would you take him under your protection?'-He blushed-my father's face was scarlet—he pressed his hand to his bosom, as if he had said,
--iny heart does not mean to offend you. Mountford sighed twice — I am a proud fool,' said he, and you will pardon it ;-there! (he sighed again) I can hear of dependence, since it is dependence on my Sedley.'—* Dependence !' answered my father; (there can be no such word between us : what is there in 90001. a-year that should make me unworthy of Mountford's friendship?'-They
Oh! give me the dubious light
That gleams through the quivering shade ; Oh! give me the horrors of night
By gloom and by silence array'd !
Has pictured the moon on its breast;
Allows the pale lover to rest!
When shall I in its peaceable womb
Be laid with my sorrows asleep! Should LAVINIA chance on my tomb
I could die if I thought she would weep.
Perhaps, if the souls of the just
Revisit these mansions of care, It may be my favourite trust
To watch o'er the fate of the fair ;
embraced ; and soon after, I set out on my tra- and grasping his hand, ‘My dearest sir,' said he, vels, with Mountford for my guardian. 'my father is likely to do well; he will live to
“We were at Milan, where my father hap- pray for you, and to bless you; yes, he will pened to have an Italian friend to whom he had bless you, though you are an Englishman, and been of some service in England. The Count, some other hard word that the monk talked of for he was of quality, was solicitous to return this morning, which I have forgot, but it meant the obligation, by a particular attention to his that you should not go to heaven; but he shall son; we lived in his palace, visited with his fa- go to heaven, said I, for he has saved my father: mily, were caressed by his friends, and I began come and see him, sir, that we may be happy.' to be so well pleased with my entertainment, ~My dear, I am engaged at present with this that I thought of England as of some foreign gentleman.'—' But he shall come along with country.
you; he is an Englishman too, I fancy; he shall “ The Count had a son not much older than come and learn how an Englishman may go to myself. At that age a friend is an easy acqui- heaven.'—Mountford smiled, and we followed sition; we were friends the first night of our ac- the boy together. quaintance.
“ After crossing the next street, we arrived at “He introduced me into the company of a set the gate of a prison. I seemed surprised at the of young gentlemen, whose fortunes gave them sight; our little conductor observed it. Are the command of pleasure, and whose inclina- you afraid, sir ?' said he; 'I was afraid once too, tions incited them to the purchase. After having but my father and mother are here, and I am spent some joyous evenings in their society, it never afraid when I am with them. He took became a sort of habit which I could not miss my hand, and led me through a dark passage without uneasiness; and our meetings, which that fronted the gate. When we came to a litbefore were frequent, were now stated and re- tle door at the end, he tapped ; a boy, still gular.
younger than himself, opened it to receive us. “Sometimes in the pauses of our mirth, ga- Mountford entered with a look in which was ming was introduced as an amusement; it was pictured the benign assurance of a superior bean art in which I was a novice. I received in- ing. I followed in silence and amazement. struction, as other novices do, by losing pretty “On something like a bed, lay a man, with largely to my teachers. Nor was this the only a face seemingly emaciated with sickness, and a evil which Mountford foresaw would arise from look of patient dejection; a bundle of dirty the connexion I had formed; but a lecture of sour shreds served him for a pillow; but he had a betinjunctions was not his method of reclaiming. ter support—the arm of a female who kneeled He sometimes asked me questions about the beside him, beautiful as an angel, but with a company ; but they were such as the curiosity fading languor in her countenance, the still life of any indifferent man might have prompted : 1 of melancholy, that seemed to borrow its shade told him of their wit, their eloquence, their from the object on which she gazed. There was warmth of friendship, and their sensibility of a tear in her eye ;—the sick man kissed it off in heart: “And their honour,' said I, laying my its bud, smiling through the dimness of his own! hand on my breast, 'is unquestionable.' Mounto –when she saw Mountford, she crawled forford seemed to rejoice at my good fortune, and ward on the ground, and clasped his knees; he begged that I would introduce him to their ac- raised her from the floor; she threw her arms quaintance. At the next meeting I introduced round his neck, and sobbed out a speech of him accordingly.
thankfulness, eloquent beyond the power of lan“ The conversation was as animated as usual: guage. they displayed all that sprightliness and good- « « Compose yourself, my love,' said the man humour which my praises had led Mountford on the bed; but he, whose goodness has cauto expect; subjects too of sentiment occurred, sed that emotion, will pardon its effects.' — How and their speeches, particularly those of our is this, Mountford ?' said I; 'what do I see? friend the son of Count Respino, glowed with what must I do?'—You see,' replied the stranthe warmth of honout, and softened into the ten- ger, a wretch sunk in poverty, starving in priderness of feeling. Mountford was charmed with son, stretched on a sick-bed! But that is little: his companions; when we parted, he made the -there are his wife and children, wanting the highest eulogiums upon them: 'When shall we bread which he has not to give them! Yet you see them again ?' said he. I was delighted with cannot easily imagine the conscious serenity of the demand, and promised to reconduct him on his mind ; in the gripe of affliction, his heart the morrow.
swells with the pride of virtue ! it can even look “In going to their place of rendezvous, he took down with pity on the man whose cruelty has me a little out of the road, to see, as he told me, wrung it almost to bursting. You are, I fancy, the performances of a young statuary. When a friend of Mr Mountford's; come nearer, and we were near the house in which Mountford said I'll tell you ; for, short as my story is, I can he lived, a boy about seven years old crossed us in hardly command breath enough for the recital. the street. At sight of Montford he stopped, The son of Count Respino (I started as if I had
trod on a viper) has long had a criminal passion – Damn him, damn him !' said I; ' let us for my wife; this her prudence had concealed leave Milan instantly; but soft- I will be from me ; but he had lately the boldness to de- calm ; Mountford, your pencil.' I wrote on a clare it to myself. He promised me affluence in slip of paper, exchange for honour; and threatened misery, as its attendant, if I kept it. I treated him with " To Signor RESPINO. the contempt he deserved: the consequence was, When you receive this, I am at a distance that he hired a couple of bravoes, (for I am per- from Milan. Accept of my thanks for the civilsuaded they acted under his direction,) who at- ities I have received from you and your family. tempted to assassinate me in the street ; but I As to the friendship with which you were pleased made such a defence as obliged them to fly, af- to honour me, the prison, which I have just left, ter having given me two or three stabs, none of has exhibited a scene to cancel it for ever. You which, however, were mortal. But his revenge may possibly be merry with your companions was not thus to be disappointed : in the little at my weakness, as I suppose you will term it. dealings of mytradel had contracted some debts, I give you leave for derision : you may affect a of which he had made himself master for my triumph ; I shall feel it. ruin. I was confined here at his suit, when not
'EDWARD SEDLEY.' yet recovered from the wounds I had received; this dear woman, and these two boys, followed «« You may send this if you will,' said me, that we might starve together, but Provi- Mountford, coolly; but still Respino is a man dence interposed, and sent Mr Mountford to of honour ; the world will continue to call him our support: he has relieved my family from so.'— It is probable,' I answered, “they may; the gnawings of hunger, and rescued me from I envy not the appellation. If this is the world's death, to which a fever, consequent on my honour, if these men are the guides of its manwounds, and increased by the want of every ne
ners'— Tut!' said Mountford,do you eat cessary, had almost reduced me.'
macaroni ?'”. ««« Inhuman villain !' I exclaimed, lifting up my eyes to heaven.
(Inhuman indeed ! said the lovely woman who stood at my side: 'Alas! [At this place had the greatest depredations sir, what had we done to offend him? what had of the Curate begun. There were so very few these little ones done, that they should perish connected passages of the subsequent chapters in the toils of his vengeance?'-I reached a pen remaining, that
even the partiality of an editor which stood in the ink-standish at the bed-side could not offer them to the public. I discovered,
May I ask what is the amount of the sum from some scattered sentences, that they were of for which you are imprisoned ?'—' I was able,' much the same tenor with the preceding ; rehe replied, to pay all but 500 crowns.'-I citals of little adventures, in which the disposiwrote a draught on the banker with whom I tions of a man, sensible to judge, and still more had a credit from my father for 2500, and pre- warm to feel, had room to unfold themselves. senting it to the stranger's wife, 'You will re- Some instruction, and some example, I make no ceive, madam, on presenting this note, a sum doubt, they contained; but it is likely that many more than sufficient for your husband's dis- of those, whom chance has led to a perusal of charge; the remainder I leave for his industry what I have already presented, may have read to improve. I would have left the room: each it with little pleasure, and will feel no disapof them laid hold of one of my hands; the pointment from the want of those parts which children clung to my coat :-Oh! Mr Harley, I have been unable to procure: to such as may methinks I feel their gentle violence at this have expected the intricacies of a novel, a few moment; it beats here with delight inexpres- incidents in a life undistinguished, except by sible — Stay, sir,' said he, 'I do not mean some features of the heart, cannot have afforded attempting to thank you ; (he took a pocket- much entertainment. book from under his pillow ;) let me but know Harley's own story, from the mutilated paswhat name I shall place here next to Mr Mount- sages I have mentioned, as well as from solde ford ?' - Sedley'—he writ it down—An Eng- inquiries I was at the trouble of making in the lishman too, I presume.'— He shall go to country, I found to have been simple to excess. heaven notwithstanding,' said the boy who had His mistress, I couid perceive, was not married been our guide. It began to be too much for to Sir Harry Benson : but it would seem, by me; I squeezed his hand that was clasped in one of the following chapters, which is still enmine; his wife's I pressed to my lips, and burst tire, that Harley had not profited on the occafrom the place, to give vent to the feelings that sion by making any declaration of his own paslaboured within me.
sion, after those of the other had been unsue“Oh! Mountford!' said I, when he had over- cessful. The state of his health, for some part taken me at the door. It is time,' replied he, of this period, appears to have been such as to • that we should think of our appointment; forbid any thoughts of that kind : he had been young Respino and his friends are waiting us.' seized with a very dangerous fever, caught by al
tending old Edwards in onc of an infectious kind. sciousness of few great offences to account for. From this he had recovered but imperfectly. There are blemishes, I confess, which deform and though he had no formed complaint, his in some degree the picture. But I know the health was manifestly on the decline.
benignity of the Supreme Being, and rejoice at It appears that the sagacity of some friend the thoughts of its exercise in my favour. My had at length pointed out to his aunt a cause mind expands at the thought that I shall enter from which this might be supposed to proceed, into the society of the blessed, wise as angels, to wit, his hopeless love for Miss Walton; for, with the simplicity of children.” He had, by according to the conceptions of the world, the this time, clasped my hand, and found it wet love of a man of Harley's fortune for the heiress by a tear which had just fallen upon it. His of 40001. a-year, is indeed desperate. Whether eye began to moisten too—we sat for some time it was so in this case may be gathered from the silent. At last, with an attempt to a look of next chapter, which, with the two subsequent, more composure, “There are some remembranconcluding the performance, have escaped those ces," said Harley, “which rise involuntarily on accidents that proved fatal to the rest.] my heart, and make me almost wish to live. I
have been blessed with a few friends, who re
deem my opinion of mankind. I recollect, with CHAP. LV.
the tenderest emotion, the scenes of pleasure I
have passed among them ; but we shall meet He sees Miss Walton, and is happy. again, my friend, never to be separated. There
are some feelings, which, perhaps, are too tender HARLEY was one of those few friends whom to be suffered by the world. The world is in the malevolence of fortune had yet left me: I general selfish, interested, and unthinking, and could not, therefore, but be sensibly concerned throws the imputation of romance, or melanfor his present indisposition; there seldom passed choly, on every temper more susceptible than a day on which I did not make inquiry about its own. I cannot think but in those regions him.
which I contemplate, if there is any thing of The physician who attended him had in- mortality left about us, that these feelings will formed me the evening before, that he thought subsist :-they are called, -perhaps they arehim considerably better than he had been for weaknesses here ; --but there may be some betsome time past. I called next morning to be ter modifications of them in heaven, which may confirmed in a piece of intelligence so welcome deserve the name of virtues." He sighed as he to me.
spoke these last words. He had scarcely finished When I entered his apartment, I found him them, when the door opened, and his aunt apsitting on a couch, leaning on his hand, with peared, leading in Miss Walton. My dear," his eye turned upwards in the attitude of says she, “here is Miss Walton, who has been thoughtful inspiration. His look had always so kind as to come and inquire for you herself.” an open benignity, which commanded esteem; I could observe a transient glow upon his face. there was now something more—a gentle tri- He rose from his seat—" If to know Miss Walumph in it.
ton's goodness,” said he,“ be a title to deserve He rose, and met me with his usual kind- it, I have some claim.” She begged him to re
When I gave him the good accounts I sume his seat, and placed herself on the sofa had had from his physician, “ I am foolish beside him. I took my leave. Mrs Margery enough,” said he,“ to rely but little, in this accompanied me to the door. He was left with instance, upon physic: my presentiment may Miss Walton alone. She inquired anxiously be false ; but I think I feel myself approaching about his health. “I believe," said he, to my end, by steps so easy, that they woo me the accounts which my physicians unwillingly to approach it.
give me, that they have no great hopes of my “ There is a certain dignity in retiring from recovery.”—She started as he spoke; but, relife at a time when the infirmities of age have collecting herself immediately, endeavoured to not sapped our faculties. This world, my dear flatter him into a belief that his apprehensions Charles, was a scene in which I never much de- were groundless. “I know,” said he, “ that lighted. I was not formed for the bustle of the it is usual with persons at my time of life to busy, nor the dissipation of the gay; a thou- have these hopes, which your kindness sugsand things occurred, where I blushed for the gests; but I would not wish to be deceived. impropriety of my conduct when I thought on To meet death as becomes a man, is a privilege the world, though my reason told me I should bestowed on few.— I would endeavour to make have blushed to have done otherwise. It was a it mine ;—nor do I think that I can ever be scene of dissimulation, of restraint, of disap- better prepared for it than now :-It is that pointment. I leave it to enter on that state, which chiefly which determines the fitness of its apI have learned to believe is replete with the proach.” “ Those sentiments,” answered Miss genuine happiness attendant upon virtue. I Walton, are just ; but your good sense, Mr look back on the tenor of my life, with the con- Harley, will own, that life has its proper value.
-As the province of virtue, life is ennobled: tionless. There is an enthusiasm in sorrow that as such, it is to be desired. To virtue has the forgets impossibility ; I wondered that it was Supreme Director of all things assigned re- The sight drew a prayer from my heart: wards enough even here to fix its attachment.” it was the voice of frailty and of man! the confu
The subject began to overpower her.—Har- sion of my mind began to subside into thought; ley lifted his eyes from the ground—“ There I had time to weep. are,” said he, in a very low voice, “ there are I turned with the last farewell upon my lips, attachments, Miss Walton-" His glance met when I observed old Edwards standing behind hers-They both betrayed a confusion, and me. I looked him full in the face; but his were both instantly withdrawn.--He paused eye was fixed on another object: he pressed some moments—“I am in such a state as calls between me and the bed, and stood gazing on for sincerity, let that also excuse it—It is per- the breathless remains of his benefactor. I haps the last time we shall ever meet. I feel spoke to him I know not what; but he took no something particularly solemn in the acknow. notice of what I said, and remained in the same ledgment, yet my heart swells to make it, awed attitude as before. He stood some minutes in as it is by a sense of my presumption, by a sense that posture, then turned and walked towards of your perfections”-He paused again“Let the door. He paused as he went;-he returnit not offend you, to know their power over one ed a second time: I could observe his lips move so unworthy-it will, I believe, soon cease to as he looked; but the voice they would have beat, even with that feeling which it shall lose uttered was lost. He attempted going again; the latest.-To love Miss Walton could not be and a third time he returned as before.- I saw a crime ;—if to declare it is one—the expiation him wipe his cheek; then, covering his face will be made.”—Her tears were now Aowing with his hands, his breast heaving with the without control.—“Let me intreat you,” said most convulsive throbs, he flung out of the she, “ to have better hopes—Let not life be so indifferent to you; if my wishes can put any value on it, I will not pretend to misunderstand you—I know your worth—I have known
THE CONCLUSION. it long I have esteemed it—What would you have me to say ?-I have loved it as it deser- He had hinted that he should like to be buved.”—He seized her handa languid colour ried in a certain spot near the grave of his moreddened his cheek—a smile brightened faintly ther. This is a weakness; but it is universalin his eye. As he gazed on her, it grew dim, ly incident to humanity: 'tis at least a memoit fixed, it closed–He sighed and fell back on rial for those who survive: for some indeed his seat-Miss Walton screamed at the sight, slender memorial will serve; and the soft afHis aunt and the servants rushed into the room fections, when they are busy that way, will —They found them lying motionless together. build their structures, were it but on the paring -His physician happened to call at that in- of a nail. stant. Every art was tried to recover them- He was buried in the place he had desired. With Miss Walton they succeeded—But Har. It was shaded by an old tree, the only one in ley was gone for ever!
the church-yard, in which was a cavity worn by time. I have sat with him in it, and count
ed the tombs. The last time we passed there, CHAP. LOI.
methought he looked wistfully on the tree :
there was a branch of it, that bent towards us, The Emotions of the Heart.
waving in the wind; he waved his hand, as if
he mimicked its motion. There was something I ENTERED the room where his body lay; I predictive in his look! perhaps it is foolish to approached it with reverence, not fear; I looked; remark it; but there are times and places when the recollection of the past crowded upon me. I am a child in those things. I saw that form which, but a little before, was I sometimes visit his grave; I sit in the holanimated with a soul which did honour to hu- low of the tree. It is worth a thousand homi. manity, stretched without sense or feeling be- lies; every noble feeling rises within me! every fore me. 'Tis a connexion we cannot easily for- beat of my heart awakens virtue !—but it will get :- I took his hand in mine ; I repeated his make you hate the world—No: there is such name involuntarily ;-I felt a pulse in every an air of gentleness around, that I can hate novein at the sound. I looked earnestly in his thing; but, as to the world—I pity the men face; his eye was closed, his lip pale and mo- of it.
THE END OF THE MAN OF FEELING.