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of a Christian? From my rank, I might have expected affluence to wait upon my life; from religion and understanding, peace to smile upon my end instead of which, I am afflicted with poverty, and haunted with remorse, despised by my country, and, I fear, forsaken by my God.

"There is nothing so dangerous as extraordinary abilities. I cannot be accused of vanity now, by being sensible that I was once possessed of uncommon qualifications, especially as I sincerely regret that I ever had them. My rank in life made these accomplishments still more conspicuous, and, fascinated by the general applause which they procured, I never considered the proper means by which they should be displayed. Hence, to procure a smile from a blockhead whom I despised, I have frequently treated the virtues with disrespect, and sported with the holy name of heaven to obtain a laugh from a parcel of fools, who were entitled to nothing but contempt.

"Your men of wit generally look upon themselves as discharged from the duties of religion, and confine the doctrines of the gospel to people of meaner understandings. It is a sort of

derogation, in their opinion, to comply with the rules of Christianity; and they reckon that man possessed of a narrow genius, who studies to be good.

"What a pity that the holy writings are not made the criterion of true judgment; or that any person should pass for a fine gentleman in this world, but he that appears solicitous about his happiness in the next.

"I am forsaken by all my acquaintance, utterly neglected by the friends of my bosom, and the dependants on my bounty; but no matter ! I am not fit to converse with the former, and have no ability to serve the latter. Let me not, however, be wholly cast off by the good. Favour me with a visit as soon as possible. Writing to you gives me some ease, and the talking with you on a subject now nearest to my heart, will give me still more.

"I am of opinion this is the last visit I shall ever solicit from you; my distemper is powerful; come and pray for the departing spirit of the poor unhappy


This letter, the language of which breathed such a spirit of contrition and good sense, excited the surprise, while at the same time, it gratified the feelings of Mr. Walsingham. Its effect on Adeline was not less striking; her own injuries were forgotten and absorbed in compassion for the miseries of him who had inflicted them; and, much as she had reason to abhor the vices of the profligate nobleman, she could not avoid weeping over the death-bed of the penitent sinner.

"I thank God," exclaimed Mr. Walsingham, as he laid the letter on the table," that this hitherto unfortunate man has, at length, seen the error of his ways; racked by disease, and alarmed by apprehensions of approaching dissolution, he now bitterly repents, I rejoice to perceive, the iniquities of his past life, his ingratitude towards his Maker, and his neglect of the duties of religion. Yes, my love," he added, addressing Adeline, "I will immediately attend the couch of the dying Buckingham. I shall be able, I trust, to carry consolation to his bosom, not only by an assurance of the recovering state of Edward, but by placing before

him, in their proper light, those requisites for salvation in another world, of which, I am afraid, he has too long lost sight in this."

As he uttered these words, he ordered the Duke's servant to be re-admitted, and telling him that he would immediately accompany him to his master, gave directions for his own horse to be got ready.

(To be continued.)

No. XX.

See! where the British Homer leads
The Epic choir of modern days,
Blind as the Grecian bard.


Ir is obvious that our interest in, and sympathy for, the sufferings of our fellow-creatures will be in proportion to the personal merit of the parties, and to the authenticity, accuracy, and particularity of the circumstances which have reached us in relation to their misfortunes. Thus, interested as we have lately been, by the distant and indistinct views which the lapse of ages has just permitted us to take of the blindness of Homer, how much more powerfully should we have sympathized with the great poet, had the history of his calamity, and of the feelings to which it gave birth in his bosom, come down to us with any degree of minuteness and fidelity!

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