had come over that adored brother; and lady Anne Milsome, also tracing strongly in her nephew the features of his father, called to mind many happy moments, which, like flowers, had dropped, one by one, upon the stream of time, and now could only be seen floating upon the dark waves in the distance, soon to be borne away for ever from her sight.

The next morning, however, lord Burton appeared to have relapsed into his usual gravity of manner, and there seemed to be also some additional uncomfort weighing on his mind, which was at length explained, by his informing them that he should be obliged to leave them again next day.

Lady Anne Milsome seemed surprised, and Mary, though perhaps she felt so too, did not suffer it to appear, only saying, with her usual gentleness, that she was sorry they were to part so soon.

"It will not be for long, Mary," answered lord Burton; "for should you not - D 5

be

be inclined to return to England within two or three months, I do not know but that I may join you in Italy."

"Oh, that would be delightful indeed, Frederic!" answered lady Mary, her eyes beaming with pleasure at the idea.

"And perhaps I may bring a friend of mine with me," continued her brother, "for whom I shall endeavour to procure a favourable reception; so take care you get all your best looks in store, for who knows what may happen, Mary? you may make à conquest, you know."

"Who knows indeed!" replied Mary, laughing; "but I hope this friend of yours is very handsome, &c. &c."

"Oh, very handsome indeed!" he answered; "quite an Adonis. But to speak upon another subject as you are likely to stay a week or more in Paris after I am gone, I will make you my little almoner, and I therefore give you power and direc tion to break open all the letters that come here in my absence, and do what you

think best. But consult with my aunt, and do not let yourself be taken in; for, remember, what is given to the unworthy is so much withheld from the deserving. And I want you also to go and pay a visit to a gentleman for me."

"That is an extraordinary task, Frederic," replied his sister; "pray who may it be?"

66

"It is my old philosopher," replied lord Burton; you have heard me speak of him, and know where he lives; and he would take it the very highest compliment if you would go and see him."

"Oh, that I will!" answered lady Mary; "but how is he, Frederic? Tell my aunt too his history-she has never heard it.”

"I have not been able to see him since I came to Paris," answered her brother; "but I understand, what between age and sorrow, his health is very much broken; he is considerably above eighty. His history is not a very singular one, I am sorry to say," continued he, turning to D 6

lady

lady Anne: " he was a man of some property in England, of an enthusiastic turn of mind, and literary pursuits, both of which combined to ruin him: the last made him neglect his own interest, and the first sacrifice himself for the interest of others. He had one child too, who left him to his sorrows, and has never been heard of since. With impaired fortune, and disgusted with the world, my philosopher came to France, and placed the greater part of what yet remained of his property in the hands of a banker, who, at the moment he received it, knew himself to be on the eve of failure. The consequence was, he lost almost the whole. I happened also to be a sufferer by the same man, and was at the banking-house when the news was communicated to him. He would not let his distress be seen in his countenance, for he thought it a weakness; but I read it for all that, and contrived to make acquaintance with him. At first he rejected my advances; but, at

length,

length, finding they neither proceeded from impertinent curiosity, or a wish to press obligations upon him, he became more open towards me, and told me his tale of distress. tended to do.

I asked him what he in

Go to the hospital for if there is such a place

fools,' replied he, here.' I told him there was, and that if he would breakfast with me the next day, I would take him to see it. I had, shortly before, purchased a very pretty cottage about two leagues out of the town, and when he came, I ordered the carriage to drive there. I went over it with him, and prevailed on him to accept it as a loan during his life. I keep a gardener there, and by his means I contrive to give my old friend as much assistance as he will receive. At first his pride stood much in the way; but now he has become more accustomed to it, and takes the little gifts I send him as a matter of course."

"Oh! but a gift from you is not like an obligation