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in life depended upon his following the desire it contained. It had no signature, and on such slender information, it may be supposed, lord Burton was not very much inclined to undertake so long a journey. It had so happened that he could call to mind no one in any way connected with Newcastle, except the old philosopher, to whom he had been kind in Paris, and who was a native of that place.

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While he was engaged in considering this strange epistle, and trying to recollect the hand, with which he was quite unac quainted, he was joined by the baron de S who shewed him a letter exactly similar; and on being asked if he knew the writing, replied “ Too well-a great deal too well." But Frederic could bring him to no farther explanation, though he expressed his astonishment that a like request had been made to them both, saying he could not conceive how any one was interested but himself; but at the same

time he caught eagerly at the idea of lord Burton accompanying him; and on perceiving his reluctance, pressed him so earnestly on the subject, that he could not refuse to go, though he had several reasons for wishing to remain in town, at least for a few days.

In the mean time the idea of Miss Stanhope floated before Frederic's ima gination, broke his rest, and destroyed his peace; and he endeavoured to banish it from his mind in vain. Often would he ask himself" What was the principle that gave our ancient philosophers a greater command of mind than we have? Was it an intellect naturally more powerful? Was it the early inculcated exertion of their reason, which acquired strength in that particular, by long application to one purpose? or did they really control the emotions of their minds, and the feelings of their hearts? or was it only that they prevented the external expression of what they felt within themselves as

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poignantly as we do? If it was this last, their conduct was hypocrisy, and not virtue; vanity, and not wisdom. But if it was the former, how enviable was that self-government which they possessed!"

But lord Burton could not gain that command of himself which he envied, and in spite of all he could do, his mind would still revert to his own peculiar circumstances; and the thought of Louisa Stanhope would return, with that cold, sickening sensation which nothing but the apprehension of losing a beloved object can produce." Surely, surely," he would say, "I am placed in the most unfortunate of situations-attached to her without the possibility of withdrawing my affection, or the opportunity of gaining hers in return. Why did Nature give me feelings so intense? 2. Why did she not form me as cold as the generality of mankind, and not curse me with the capability of keen enjoyment, when she denies me the prospect of happiness ?" and then he would

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template Nature's bold and frowning face-"Knit. not your brows at me, I've done the world no wrong."

The Wheel of Fortune.

The Relief.

It was not without a good deal of reluctance that lord Burton left London, upon an anonymous invitation to proceed all the way to Newcastle, for a purpose that he was not made acquainted with: the letter in itself was strange, but the silence which the baron maintained appeared to lord Burton still more extraordinary. Several times before their departure, Frederic resolved to question his friend on the sub

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ject, but as often desisted, for fear of pressing upon some painful point. It had been ford Burton's delight through life to bestow happiness wherever it was in his power, and on the same principle he shrunk from giving any pain where he could avoid it, and having once promised to go, he left the rest to explain itself.

However, after having consented to do a disagreeable thing, we generally find a little degree of irritation remaining on the mind, and would fain have something go wrong to justify us in being out of humour; and though lord Burton endeavoured to overcome any sensation of the kind, perhaps in his life he never felt more inclined to be splenetic than when the carriage rolled him away from London, where he left so many inquiries unmade, and so many doubts to be satisfied.

Nothing however occurred on the road, either to divert his attention, or afford him any subject of complaint. In short, the journey was as dull as it well could be:

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