and kissing her more fondly, if possible, than before. "We shall not be apart long, I dare say !”

We set off on our walk towards town; and Mr Dudleigh conversed with great calmness, speaking of his affairs, even in an encouraging tone. At length we separated. Remember me kindly to Mrs said he, mentioning my wife's name, and shaking me warmly by the hand.

The next morning, as I sate at breakfast, making out my daily list, my wife, who had one of the morning papers in her hand, suddenly let it fall, and looking palely at me, exclaimed-"Eh, surely-surely, my dear, this can never be-Mr Dudleigh!"-I enquired what she meant, -and she pointed out the following paragraph:

"ATTEMPTED SUICIDE.-Yesterday evening, an elderly gentleman, dressed in deep mourning, was observed walking for some time near the water side, a little above Chelsea-Reach, and presently stepped on board one of the barges, and threw himself from the outer one into the river. Most providentially this latter movement was seen by a boatman who was rowing past, and who succeed ed, after some minutes, in seizing hold of the unfortunate person, and lifting him into the boat-but not till the vital spark seemed extinct. He was immediately carried to the public-house by the water-side, where prompt and judicious means were made use of and with success. He is now lying at the public-house, but as there were no papers or cards about him, his name is at present unknown. The unfortunate gentleman is of middling stature, rather full make-of advanced years—his hair very grey,-and he wears a mourning ring on his left hand."

I rung the bell, ordered a coach, drew on my boots, and put on my walking-dress; and in a little more than three or four minutes was hurrying on my way to the house mentioned in the newspaper. A twopenny post-man had the knocker in his hand at the moment of my opening the door, and put into my hand a paid letter, which I tore open as I drove along. Good God! it was from -Mr Dudleigh. It afforded unequivocal evidence of the insanity which

had led him to attempt his life. It was written in a most extravagant and incongruous strain, and acquainted me with the writer's intention to "bid farewell to his troubles that evening." It ended with informing me, that I was left a legacy in his will for L.5000-and hoping, that when his poor daughter died, "I would see her magnificently buried." By the time I had arrived at the house where he lay, I was almost fainting with agitation: and I was compelled to wait some minutes below, before I could sufficiently recover my self-possession. On entering the bedroom where he lay, I found him undressed, and fast asleep. There was no appearance whatever of discomposure in the features. His hands were clasped closely together-and in that position he had continued for several hours. The medical man who had been summoned in over-night, sate at his bedside, and informed me that his patient was going on as well as could be expected. The treatment he had adopted, had been very judicious and successful; and I had no doubt, that when next Mr Dudleigh awoke, he would feel little if any the worse for what he had suffered. All my thoughts were now directed to Miss Dudleigh; for I felt sure that if the intelligence had found its way to her, it must have destroyed her. I ran every inch of the distance between the two houses, and knocked gently at the door with my knuckles, that I might not disturb Miss Dudleigh. The servant girl, seeing my discomposed appearance, would have created a disturbance, by shrieking, or making some other noise, had I not placed my fingers on her mouth, and in a whisper, asked how her mistress was? "Master went home with you, sir, did not he?"-she enquired with an alarmed air.

"Yes-yes" I replied hastily.

"Oh, I told Miss so! I told her so!" replied the girl, clasping her hands, and breathing freer.

66

Oh, she has been uneasy about his not coming home last night—eh?

Ah-I thought so, this morning, and that is what has brought me here in such a hurry," said I, as calmly as I could. After waiting down stairs to recover my breath a little, I repaired to Miss Dudleigh's room. She

and we got into my chariot together. He was perfectly quiet and gentle, conversed on indifferent subjects, and spoke of having had "a cold bath" last night, which had done him much good! My heart grew heavier and heavier as we neared the home where I was to bring her idiot father to Miss Dudleigh! I felt sick with agitation, as we descended the carriage steps.

But I was for some time happily disappointed. He entered her room with eagerness, ran up to her and kissed her with his usual affectionate energy. She held him in her arms for some time, exclaiming,-" Oh, father, father! How glad I am to see you!-I thought some accident had happened to you! Why did you not tell me that you were going home with Dr--?" My wife and I trembled, and looked at each other despairingly.

Why," replied her father, sitting down beside her, "you see, my love, Dr -recommended me a cold bath."

"A cold bath at THIS time of the year!" exclaimed Miss Dudleigh, looking at me with astonishment. I smiled, with ill-assumed nonchalance. "It is very advantageous at-ateven this season of the year," I stam mered, for I observed Miss Dudleigh's eye fixed on me like a ray of lightning.

"Yes-but they ought to have taken off my clothes first," said Mr Dudleigh, with a shuddering motion, His daughter suddenly laid her hand on him, uttered a faint shriek, and fell back in her bed in a swoon. The dreadful scene of the morning was all acted over again. I think I should have rejoiced to see her expire on the spot; but, no! Providence had allotted her a further space, that she might drain the cup of sorrow to the dregs!

Tuesday, 18th July, 18. İ am still in attendance on poor unfortunate Miss Dudleigh. The scenes I have to encounter are often anguish ing, and even heart-breaking. She lingers on day after day and week after week in increasing pain!-By the bedside of the dying girl sits the figure of an elderly grey-haired man, dressed in neat and simple mourn

ing-now, gazing into vacancy with "lack-lustre eye"-and then suddenly kissing her hand with childish eagerness, and chattering mere gibberish to her! It is her idiot father! Yes, he proves an irre coverable idiot-but is uniformly quiet and inoffensive. We at first intended to have sent him to a neigh bouring private institution for the reception of the insane; but poor Miss Dudleigh would not hear of it, and threatened to destroy herself, if her father was removed. She in sisted on his being allowed to con tinue with her, and consented that a proper person should be in constant attendance on him. She her self could manage him, she said! and so it proved. He is a mere child in her hands. If ever he is inclined to be mischievous or obstre perous-which is very seldom-if she do but say hush!" or lift up her trembling finger, or fix her eye upon him reprovingly, he is instantly cowed, and runs up to her to "kiss and be friends.' He often falls down on his knees, when he thinks he has offended her, and cries like a child. She will not trust him out of her sight for more than a few moments together-except when he retires with his guardian, to rest;and indeed he shews as little inclination to leave her. The nurse's situation is almost a sort of sine cure; for the anxious officiousness of Mr Dudleigh leaves her little to do. He alone gives his daughter her medicine and food, and does so with requisite gentleness and tenderness. He has no notion of her real statethat she is dying; and finding that she could not succeed in her efforts gradually to apprize him of the event, which he always turned off with a smile of incredulity, she gives in to his humour, and tells himpoor girl!-that she is getting better! He has taken it into his head that she is to be married to Lord

as soon as she recovers, and talks with high glee of the magnificent repairs going on at his former house in Square! He always accompanies me to the door; and sometimes writes me cheques for L.50-which of course is a delusion only-as he has no banker, and few funds to put in his hands; and at other times slips a shilling or a si

pence into my hand at leavingthinking, doubtless, that he has given me a guinea.

Friday.-The idea of Miss Dudleigh's rapidly approaching marriage continues still uppermost in her father's head; and he is incessantly pestering her to make preparations for the event. To-day he appealed to me, and complained that she would not order her wedding-dress. Father, dear father!" said Miss Dudleigh, faintly, laying her wasted hand on his arm,-" only be quiet a little, and I'll begin to make it! I'll really set about it to-morrow!" He kissed her fondly, and then eager ly emptied his pockets of all the loose silver that was in them, telling her to take it, and order the materials. I saw that there was something or other peculiar in the expression of Miss Dudleigh's eye, in saying what she did-as if some sudden scheme had suggested itself to her. Indeed the looks with which she constantly regards him, are such as I can find no adequate terms of description for. They bespeak blended anguish-apprehension-pity love-in short, an expression that haunts me wherever I go. Oh what a scene of suffering humanity-a daughter's death-bed watched by an idiot father!

Monday. I now knew what was Miss Dudleigh's meaning, in assenting to her father's proposal last Friday. I found, this morning, the poor dear girl engaged on her shroud!It is of fine muslin, and she is attempting to sew and embroider it. The people about her did all they could to dissuade her; but there was at last no resisting her importunities. Yes there she sits, poor thing, propped up by pillows, making frequent but feeble efforts to draw her needle through her gloomy work,— her father, the while, holding one end of the muslin, and watching her work with childish eagerness. Sometimes a tear will fall from her eyes while thus engaged. It did this morning. Mr Dudleigh observed it, and, turning to me, said, with an arch smile," Ah, ha!-how is it that young ladies always cry about being married?" Oh the look Miss Dudleigh gave me, as she suddenly dropped her work, and turned her head aside!

Saturday.-Mr Dudleigh is hard at work making his daughter a cowslip wreath, out of some flowers given him by his keeper!

When I took my leave to-day, he accompanied me, as usual, down stairs, and led the way into the little parlour. He then shut the door, and told me in a low whisper, that he wished me to bring him" an honest lawyer,"-to make his will: for that he was going to settle L.200,000 upon his daughter!-of course I put him off with promises to look out for what he asked. It is rather remarkable, I think, that he has never once, in my hearing, made any allusion to his deceased wife. As I shook his hand at parting, he stared suddenly at me, and said-" Doctor-Doctor! my daughter is VERY slow in getting well-is'nt she?"

Monday, July 23.—The suffering angel will soon leave us and all her sorrows!-She is dying fast: She is very much altered in appearance, and has not power enough to speak in more than a whisper-and that but seldom. Her father sits gazing at her with a puzzled air, as if he did not know what to make of her unusual silence. He was a good deal vexed when she laid aside her "wedding-dress,"-and tried to tempt her to resume it, by shewing her a shilling! While I was sitting beside her, Miss Dudleigh, without opening her eyes, exclaimed, scarcely audible, "Oh! be kind to him! be kind to him! He won't be long here! He is very gentle !"

Evening. Happening to be summoned to the neighbourhood, I called a second time during the day on Miss Dudleigh. All was quiet when I entered the room. The nurse was sitting at the window, reading; and Mr Dudleigh occupied his usual place at the bedside, leaning over his daughter, whose arms were clasped together round his neck.

"Hush! hush !"-said Mr Dudleigh, in a low whisper, as I approached,-"Don't make a noiseshe's asleep!"-Yes, she was ASLEEP -and to wake no more!-Her snowcold arms,-her features, which on parting the dishevelled hair that hid them, I perceived to be fallen—told me that she was dead!

She was buried in the same grave

as her mother. Her wretched father, contrary to our apprehensions, made no disturbance whatever while she lay dead. They told him that she was no more-but he did not seem to comprehend what was meant. He would take hold of her passive hand, gently shake it, and let it fall again, with a melancholy wandering stare that was pitiable!-He sate at her coffin-side all day long, and laid fresh flowers upon her every morning. Dreading lest some sudden paroxysm might occur, if he was suffered to see the lid screwed down, and her remains removed, we gave him a tolerably strong opiate in some wine, on the morning of the funeral; and as soon as he was fast asleep, we proceeded with the last sad rites, and committed to the cold and quiet grave another broken heart!

Mr Dudleigh suffered himself to be soon after conveyed to a private asylum, where he had every comfort and attention requisite to his circumstances. He had fallen into profound melancholy, and seldom or never spoke to any one. He would shake me by the hand languidly when I called to see him,-but hung down his head in silence, without answering any of my questions.

His favourite seat was a rustic bench beneath an ample sycamoretree, in the green behind the house. Here he would sit for hours together, gazing fixedly in one direction, towards a rustic church-steeple, and uttering deep sighs. No one interfered with him; and he took no notice of any one.-One afternoon a gentleman of foreign appearance called at the asylum, and in a hurried, faltering voice, asked if he could see Mr Dudleigh. A servant but newly engaged on the establishment, imprudently answered-" Certainly, sir. Yonder he is, sitting under the sycamore. He never notices any one, sir." The stranger-young Dudleigh, who had but that morning arrived from America-rushed past the servant into the garden; and flinging down his hat, fell on one knee before his father, clasping his hands over his breast. Finding his father did not seem inclined to notice him, he gently touched him on the knee, and whispered-"FATHER!"

Mr Dudleigh started at the sound, turned suddenly towards his son, looked him full in the face-fellback in his seat, and instantly expired!

VOL. XXX, NO. CLXXXII,

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