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the mean-spirited meddlers of society pos

sibly give to what we are going to do?” “What the world will say,” observed Mr. Wilmot, “though certainly in some degree a consideration, is the last that ought to influence us; wherever we have time for thought, we ought to apply to that small still monitor, which, if we never check it, will always lead us right. But if there should remain a doubt, we ought to ask, ‘What will the virtuous and the good think of what I am going to do, if they could see it exactly as it is 2' We should next strive for that general tribute of applause, so gratifying to every feeling mind, by making our good actions appear good in the sight of mankind; but we should never commit what is wrong, or crush what is right, to avoid the world's

blame, or to court its approbation.”

“True, oh king !” answered Charles, with a smile; “I can do what is right in theory as well as any one; I can brave the laugh of fools, and censure of the throng, aS

as well as another—in my own chamber. But tell me, Wilmot, did you never do a wrong thing, influenced by the opinion of the world?” * The blood suddenly rose in Mr. Wilmot's cheek, and then seemed to rush as quickly back, leaving him as pale as death. —“Charles' Charles " he exclaimed, in a voice that trembled in every tone, “you do not know what you say !” “Good Heaven!” replied Mr. Melville, “I beg your pardon; I did not, I could not, intend to hurt you.” - “I know it—I know it!” answered his companion, rising; “but you have called up thoughts that destroy me; I must leave you for the present, till I am more calm,” and with an irregular step, which strongly betrayed the emotion of his mind, he left the room. “Singular man!” thought Charles as he departed, “what can it be that makes you so different from others? some impression certainly of past days, that even the the hand of time has not been able altogether to efface, some irretrievable sorrow, that leaves its shadow for ever on the

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When life's first fairy stage is past,
The glowing hand of Hope is cold,
And Fancy lives not to be old;
Darker and darker all before,
We turn the former prospects o'er,
And find, in Memory's faithful eye,
Our little stock of pleasures lie.
LANGHoRNE–Fables of Flora.


WHAT a happy privilege would it be for man to have the power, after a certain number of years of wandering here and there in the long track of the past, resting on the spots of happiness he has enjoyed,


and culling the blossoms he has crushed or neglected? Memory, it is true, furnishes us with a pair of wings, like the worm that has become a butterfly; but these either carry us at such a distance above the objects we regret, that we only . see them, without the possibility of tasting them, or else brings us back to them, only to find their hues faded, and their perfum

exhaled. Early days of youth oh, did but man know all the freshness, the zest, that pertains to ye, how would he treasure up every joy that time, in passing, scatters from his horn of plenty, and, like a gleaner, would follow after his scythe, to gather the flowers he mows before they wither! But Nature only lends us her blessings; and though she kindly trusts us with them, one after another, she soon recals the loan of each; nor can they ever be tasted again, when once they have passed away from us. In almost every thing once gone forward, we can never return. Such,

Such, however, is not the case with the novelist; he can skip backwards and forwards in the field of time, and has the enviable privilege of carrying on at once the past and the present. But this very privilege, as is sometimes the case, may prove embarrassing, and difficult to be managed;. for though he can easily fly back himself, it is not always so easy to take along with him the thoughts of his readers to that precise point where he wishes to pause. Be it then remembered, that at the time Mr. Melville left England for France, lady Mary Burton was resident with her aunt, 2 lady Anne Milsome, near Ilfracombe; and be it known, that shortly after the departure of lord Burton from Sturford Abbey, the seat of lady Delmont, the ladies Jane and Cecilia Evelyn also quitted it to return to their father, the earl of Ainsfield, who was at that time in London. The remonstrance of lord Burton had so far produced an effect on lady Jane, that she made her conduct more circumspect

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