"reciprocally serviceable to each other. Men "of sense generally come to the same conclu"sions; but they are likely to contribute to each "other's enlargement of view, in proportion to "the distance or even opposition of the points "from which they set out. Travel and the "strange variety of situations and employments which chance has thrown me, in the course "of my life, might have made me a mere man "of observation, if pain and sorrow and self-miscomplacence had not forced my mind in on itself, and so formed habits of meditation. It "is now as much my nature to evolve the fact "from the law, as that of a practical man to "deduce the law from the fact.

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"With respect to pecuniary remuneration, "allow me to say, I must not at least be suffered "to make any addition to your family expences "--though I cannot offer any thing that would "be in any way adequate to my sense of the service; for that indeed there could not be a "compensation, as it must be returned in kind, by esteem and grateful affection.

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"And now of myself. My ever wakeful rea"son, and the keenness of my moral feelings, will 66 secure you from all unpleasant circumstances "connected with me save only one, viz. the eva"sion of a specific madness. You will never hear "any thing but truth from me :-prior habits ren"der it out of my power to tell an untruth, but

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"unless carefully observed, I dare not promise "that I should not, with regard to this detested poison, be capable of acting one. No sixty hours have yet passed without my having taken "laudanum, though for the last week comparatively trifling doses. I have full belief that your anxiety need not be extended beyond the "first week, and for the first week, I shall not,

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I must not be permitted to leave your house, "unless with you. Delicately or indelicately, "this must be done, and both the servants and "the assistant must receive absolute commands "from you. The stimulus of conversation suspends the terror that haunts my mind; but "when I am alone, the horrors I have suffered from laudanum, the degradation, the blighted utility, almost overwhelm me. If (as I feel "for the first time a soothing confidence it will prove) I should leave you restored to my moral "and bodily health, it is not myself only that "will love and honour you; every friend I have, (and thank God! in spite of this wretched "vice* I have many and warm ones, who were friends of my youth, and have never deserted me,) will thank you with reverence. I have taken no notice of your kind apologies. If I

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* This is too strong an expression. It was not idleness, it was not sensual indulgence, that led Coleridge to contract this habit. No, it was latent disease, of which sufficient proof is given in this memoir.

"could not be comfortable in your house, and

with your family, I should deserve to be mi"serable. If you could make it convenient, I "should wish to be with you by Monday evening, as it would prevent the necessity of taking "fresh lodgings in town.

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"With respectful compliments to Mrs. Gillman and her sister, I remain, dear sir,

"Your much obliged,

"S. T. COLeridge."

On the evening appointed, Coleridge came, bringing in his hand the proof sheets of Christabel, which was now for the first time printed. The fragment in manuscript was already known to many, for to many had Coleridge read it, who had listened to it with delight—a delight so marked that its success seemed certain. But the approbation of those whom, in the worldly acceptation of the term, we call friends, is not always to be relied upon. Among the most plausible connexions, there is often a rivalship, both political and literary, which constrains the sacrifice of sincerity, and substitutes secret for open cen

sure.

Of this melancholy fact Coleridge had seen proof. The Fragment had not long been published before he was informed, that an individual had been selected (who was in truth a great admirer of his writings; and whose very life had been saved through the exertions of

Coleridge and Mr. Southey,) to "cut up

cut up" ChrisThe subject

tabel in the Edinburgh Review. being afterwards mentioned in conversation, the reviewer confessed that he was the writer of the article, but observed, that as he wrote for the Edinburgh Review, he was compelled to write in accordance with the character and tone of that periodical. This confession took place after he had been extolling the Christabel as the finest poem of its kind in the language, and ridiculing the public for their want of taste and discrimination in not admiring it.-Truly has it been said, Critics upon all writers there are many,

Planters of truth or knowledge scarcely any."

Sir Walter Scott always spoke in high praise of the Christabel, and more than once of his obligations to Coleridge; of this we have proof in his Ivanhoe, in which the lines by Coleridge, entitled "The Knight's Tomb," were quoted by Scott before they were published, from which circumstance, Coleridge was convinced that Sir Walter was the author of the Waverly Novels. The lines were composed as an experiment for at metre, and repeated by him to a mutual friendthis gentleman the following day dined in company with Sir Walter Scott, and spoke of his visit to Highgate, repeating Coleridge's lines to Scott, and observing at the same time, that they might be acceptable to the author of Waverley.

THE KNIGHT'S TOMB.

Where is the grave of Sir Arthur O'Kellyn?
Where may the grave of that good man be?-
By the side of a spring, on the breast of Helvellyn,
Under the twigs of a young birch tree!

The Oak that in summer was sweet to hear,
And rustled its leaves in the fall of the year;
And whistled and roar'd in the winter alone,
Is gone,—and the birch in its stead is grown.-
The Knight's bones are dust,

And his good sword rust;—

His soul is with the saints, I trust.

Poetical Works, Vol. ii. p. 64.

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The late Mr. Sotheby informed me, that, at his house in a large party, Sir Walter made the following remark :--" I am indebted to Coleridge for the mode of telling a tale by question and answer. This was a new light to me, and I was greatly struck by it." Yet when Sir Walter said this, he must surely have forgotten many of our ancient and most beautiful ballads, in which the questions are so significant, and are made to develope the progress of the fable more clearly than could be affected by the ordinary course of narration. In fact every lover of our old poetry will recollect a hundred pieces in which the same form of evolution is observed. in Johnie of Breadis Lee:

"What news, what news, ye grey-headed carle,
What news bring ye to me?"

Thus