was regular in the discipline of prayers, or had he been as steady in his convictions as he was serious in his subjects of enquiry, I should have thought that Abelard or De Rancé had renounced the tumults and temptations of the world, and had retired hither to repentance and meditation."* "And yet," added the President, considering

his extremely fair, nay his high character in the world, and also many acts of goodness that came to our ears, he was a mystery which I own I could not unravel." ri

"Did he not communicate with you?" asked Evelyn.

"Little," said the President, "though more than with any one else. Our former acquaintance, and the turn of his studies, together, perhaps, with some little opinion he was pleased to have formed that I might be able to assist his objects, induced him to do me the honour of opening himself to me in a very

* De Rancé was a man of quality early in the seventeenth century in France; a scholar, but of most careless and dissipated life; in the midst of which, struck with several instances of providence in the preservation of his own person, his conversion was perfected by the sudden sight of his mistress, whom he had gone to see (as he thought revelling in health and beauty) stretched in her coffin. At the age of thirty-seven he retired from court, where he had great power; gave away his estates, and shut himself up in his Abbaye of La Trappe, of which he restored the discipline.-

small degree, when with others he was as silent as the night walks he was so fond of. Quiano & May I ask those objects?" said Evelyn

❝ I have miscalled them," answered the President. I should rather have said the subjects he was upon." au Panjouge

"And what were they?" continued Evelyn.

Metaphysics, and those of the deepest kind; all the high genera; the keenest subtilties of scepticism; Spinozism, Hobbes, and Des Cartes." ask

"You make me tremble!" said Evelyn-" I would rather it had been the Bible, Newton, and Clarke."

.22.

"They were by no means wanting," continued the President; and the avidity with which all were pursued, was more like that of a keen student about to take his degree in divinity, than a man so entirely of the world; for such he certainly was, however he might, from I know not what cause, be enamoured of retreat."

↑ "Did he assign no cause?" asked Evelyn.

"He opened himself as self very little, or rather not at all," observed, the President; " and it was not for me to ask his confidence. Yet it was evident there was something in his mind more than mere love of philosophy, or a Christian desire to work out salvation."

"Was there any thing of the last ? enquired Evelyn, with interest.

"I should say, not much," returned the Presi dent," though it was certainly not altogether wanting. His aim seemed truth."

"A good aim !"Tod

"No doubt! But with all this, there was a gloom, a fear, a doubt of himself, and all attended with an indescribable melancholy, that made me sometimes suspect all was not right in his head. And this was rather confirmed than weakened by his mode of living.”

"As how?" asked Evelyn..

ཨན་ཇ

"In a manner wholly unworthy either his rank or fortune, or his known liberality. No acquaintance; scarcely a servant, or a horse; the mere College fare, abstemious as to that, and always alone. The hall scarcely ever saw him; and his lamp burned long after every other in Oxford was extinguished, and every soul in College at rest."

"You interest me greatly," cried Evelyn and his departure you say.

....

"Was even more sudden and unexpected than his arrival. As he merely wrote me word, a week before he came, of his intention to reside on his fellowship-which he had never, you know, renounced amidst all his gay or busy pursuits-so, the very day of his quitting us, he contented himself with announcing his intention to me, as his Superior in the place, and returning his thanks for what he was pleased to call my civilities as a friend."

It was with grief but ill disguised, that Evelyn felt forced, from this conversation, to give up all hope of the discoveries he had endeavoured to make. One thing only appeared; that Tremaine, whatever might have induced him to fly even the commonest intercourse with the friends who had once so absorbed him, was deeply and sincerely plunged in those subjects on which they had so cruelly differed; and if his object, as the good President said, was truth, he could not, as Evelyn hoped, long resist its demonstration.

This gilded a little, though but a little, the gloom with which he took leave of his College friends; from whom he carefully concealed the real intention of his visit, which passed for one of mere interest about the place he had always so much loved. He took London in his way back, on the thankless errand of inquiring at Tremaine's bankers, after that unfortunate friend; thankless, because nothing could he elicit from the real or well-feigned ignorance of the cautious persons of whom he made the inquiry.

This overthrow to all hope, after it had been so excited, only made the situation both of father and daughter worse than it had been before.

That lovely flower again hung its head, under the very hand that endeavoured, with unremitting affection; to prop and protect it. Health seemed or

1

ever gone; the little medical aid that had been used was discontinued, as unavailing and Evelyn agreed with his friend Dr. Asgill, who had come all the way from Northamptonshire to visit them, that the case was beyond his reached dzycis wwón áut o

"The mind is always so," said this unpretending person, "nor do we affect to cure it: it is sufficient happiness if we can reach the ills of body. But mind may be soothed, may be diverted, and parti cularly by change of place. Evelyn is too lonely for one who is evidently

'Sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought." "You advise, then," said Evelyn, "a change of air, of place?"

"I do," said Dr. Asgill," and as far from home

** 2 *‹ At pleasure here we lie, near Orleans,” be folchon,

A SICK mind finds no interest or pleasure and

therefore no ease, in cities.

Where men and wo