in the expressive eye and other intelligent features of a fine coul.tenance, a fascination which dwelleth not in words. Soon after dinner my little friend, the youngest daughter of my patron, visited me in my chamber, and bestowed upon me many caresses.

Halcyon days and months now revolved; I fondly fancied I had surmounted every difficulty, and I anticipated a succession of delightful enjoyments; yet again I experienced the satiety, consequent upon one unvaried routine. He who had appointed me for a life of wandering, gave me a disposition which was repugnant to the constant recurrence of the same scene: I ventured to pass one evening abroad: another, and another succeeded. I was severely reflected upon, and I felt it keenly; conscious of meriting reproach, I was the more deeply wounded. I had been recently conversant with a young preacher from England; my imagination was fired; the world could not have longer detained me; I condemned myself for wasting so much time: my heart, my soul was in England, in London. Let the world bestow its censures, London was the place, it contained everything delightful: I was on tiptoe to be gone. If I was not approved by the family, so much the better; there would be less ingratitude in quitting it. My dear maternal friend once more sought, and obtained a private interview; this I wished to avoid she saw my reluctance, and was convinced she should not succeed. She reproached me: this, though painful, I could bear better than her tenderness. Then you will leave us,' said the dear lady. I am determined. 'You will repent it, sir; you will return with sorrow, and with shame; when, possibly, you may not find these hospitable doors open to receive you.' Never, never; I will die first. She paused, she raised her hands to heaven; she looked-merciful God, I see her now before me: the impression of her varying countenance was unutterable; tears coursed each other down her pallid cheeks. Pausing for a few moments, she said: 'Poor unhappy youth, you know not what you are about, where you are going, and what you are doomed to suffer. Here, then, ends all my pleasing prospects; now indeed I have lost my sons, poor Anna, she has now in truth, no brother. Go, unhappy youth, go; the sooner you depart, the better: I do not wish to see you again.' She left me, nor will I attempt a description of my sensations. I retired to my chamber, my chamber now no more; I wept, I audibly sobbed. In imagination I beheld the beloved friend by whom it was once occupied : he seemed to upbraid me for my conduct: how torturing were the pangs I suffered. Upon the evening of this sad day, my cherub friend entered the chamber, and for the last time during my abode therein: pretty soul, she threw her arms around my neck, my face was. wet with her tears; she told me, that her sister was very, very sad! On what occasion, my love? Why, papa is very, very angry with you: and she says, you are going away to-morrow, she knows not where, and that she shall never see you again; and she walks about her chamber, and wrings her hands: O! dear, O! dear, I never saw her so much dis

6

tressed before!' This was a truly affecting night, but it was the last I passed under that roof. I was not summoned to breakfast: a servant came to ask, if I would breakfast in my chamber, there could be no doubt of my negative. I saw by the countenance of this domestic, that I was fallen. About twelve o'clock, I received a message from Mr. Little; he was alone; I must attend him. My sufferings were great. To meet his eye was abundantly worse than death: I endeavored to avoid it. Some time elapsed before he spoke; he repeatedly attemp.ed to speak, but mingling grief and rage arrested his utterance. At last he said: 'Well, sir, you are going to commence your travels?' This, with the manner in which it was spoken, relieved me. It was at that moment my choice to cherish resentment, rather than regret. I am going to England, sir. 'You are; well, and what are you going to do there? But this is no business of mine; yet I suppose it must be my business to know, how how you are to get there; have you any money, sir?' No sir. Hold your hat, sir.' I did so, and he threw into it as much gold as he pleased, and, as I then believed, as much as would support me, if I should reach the extreme age allotted to man. 'Have you enough, sir?' Yes, sir, quite enough, and God forever bless you. Do you hear, sir, leave behind you my son's fowling-piece, and here ends my air-built castle;' and with a flushed countenance, and a tearful eye, he left me, nor did I ever more cross the threshold of his door. I turned my back upon this once delightful home, with mingling emotions of sorrow, mortification, regret, and anger; all combining to produce unutterable anguish. My frame trembled, as I turned from the door; a chillness pervaded my heart; sickness seized my stomach, and I had just sufficient presence of mind to turn the contents of my hat into my pocket-handkerchief, when I sunk down upon the steps of the first door in my way. I was seen, and noticed by the people of the house, who conveyed me into their dwelling, and when they had recovered me, questioned me respecting the cause of my indisposition. I related, with my usual frankness, every particular, and in a short time, the story circulated, and with all the variations commonly attached to interesting articles of intelligence. I was soon sufficiently restored to reach the residence of my mother, where a new scene of sorrow awaited me. The poor sufferer was beyond measure astonished at the step I had ✨ so rashly taken, and her distress was unutterable: she had promised herself a long series of enjoyments, from the happy arrangements made for me; and I suspect she contemplated, at no very distant period, a union between Miss Little and myself; and her consequent agony, when she learned that I had not only abandoned my home, and those flattering prospects, but that, in consequence of iny fixed determination to repair to England, she was to lose me, perhaps, forever, the torture of her mind was, as I said, beyond the reach of language: but neither her tears nor entreaties, strongly enforced by those of my brothers and sisters, could for a single moment shake my resolution. Whatever barriers might op

pose my wandering steps, to England I must depart. I saw, or seemed to see, the sacred shade of my father, first reproaching me, and then soothing me to a compliance with the wishes of his mourning family; and, by the anguish of my feelings, my soul was harrowed up: yet still, obdurate as I was, I continued inflexible. I could not endure to see, or be seen, in the vicinity of the abode which I had quitted; and I made immediate preparations for my departure. I tendered to my disconsolate mother the money I had received from Mr. Little, not a penny of which she would accept : 'No, my beloved child, if you must launch out upon the wide ocean, into a world of which you know but little, you will find this sum, large as it is, far short of your exigences. Through your filial exertions, I am established in a dwelling, far beyond my most sanguine expectations, or even wishes; and, from your well-timed efforts, I derive many other advantages; and if my God is about to deprive me of my son, I doubt not, His goodness and mercy, which have hitherto followed me, will still be manifest, both in my provision and preservation, and in that of my helpless children.' My heart seemed ready to burst; conscience whispered, I was acting wrong, very wrong; yet even this conviction could not induce a relinquishment of my plan; an irresistible impulse seemed hurrying me on. Many instances, striking instances, in my long and wearisome life, combine to prove, that the way of man is not in himself; I, at least, have experienced the truth of this sacred testimony. As the time of my departure drew near, my feelings were still more keen. My mother, my brothers, my sisters, my friends, renewed their tears, and entreaties. I could not stem a torrent so mighty, and I determined I would abide with them. But it was the determination of the moment, extorted by the mournful supplications of all who were dear to me; and when they ceased to urge, I resumed my former resolution; and my mother, from early life devoutly religious, mildly resigned herself to an event which she considered inevitable. 'I see,' said she, 'supplications are ineffectual; now I am indeed a widow!' Starting at the desolate term [widow], so mournfully uttered, I hastened to my chamber, and prostrating myself before the throne of Almighty God, I seemed as if I were struggling with the agonies of dissolving nature. I would infinitely have preferred death, to a separation so exquisitely torturing. I besought the God of my father to have compassion upon me, never to leave nor forsake me; and while thus humbly and faithfully soliciting the Father of my spirit, renewed affiance grew in my bosom, and a voice seemed to say, 'Go, and lo I am with you always.' Calmly reposing upon this assuarance, I retired to rest; I quitted my pillow on the succeeding morning, wonderfully refreshed.

It was on that morning, that I met, for the last time, in the place of my dear, confiding father, his disconsolate family: it was indeed a time of prayer. My heart addressed the Father of mercies; I confessed with great sincerity, my manifold errors; and I petitioned for a continuance of unmerited kindness; I beseeched God to

look with pity on a poor, destitute, helpless being, commencing a journey through a world with which he was unacquainted. I entreated our God, in behalf of my suffering mother, and her helpless orphans, that He would constantly abide with them; and that he would vouchsafe an answer of peace to the many prayers, offered up in their behalf, by the husband and parent, now in glory. My mother was dumb; she saw the hand of God in this business, and she believed, that, as a sparrow falleth not to the ground without our heavenly Father, I could not thus leave my pleasant home, and wander I knew not whither, except the Lord directed. And, embracing me, when on the eve of my departure, she affectingly said; 'Go, my first-born, my ever beloved son; go, and may the God of your father be with you: Go, my darling son, on whom, while coming up from this wilderness, I fondly meant to lean; but God will not allow me to lean on any but himself: Go thou, ever dear to my heart, and may our God be still near you, to preserve you from the evil which is in the world. The prayers of your afflicted mother shall be continually offered up in your behalf; and oh! my son, although we part, never perhaps to meet again in this world, yet let us meet every day before that throne, whence we may expect grace to help in every time of need; let us be present in spirit, thus waiting upon the Lord. She then threw her fond, maternal arms around me, once more pressing me to that dear, that faithful bosom whence I drew my early nourishment. With tears of fond affection she bedewed my face, and again dropping upon her knees she once more lifted her streaming eyes to heaven in my behalf, when, starting up, she hastened to the retirement of her chamber, and instantly closed the door. I stood like a statue; I could not move; I was almost petrified by sorrow. But from this state of stupefaction I was roused by the burst of sorrow, and loud lamentations of my sisters. I turned to the dear girls; I wept with them, and endeavored to give them that consolation which I did not inyself possess. But, hastening from this scene of sorrow, there was one pang, whicn I calculated to escape. The youngest child, a beautiful little boy, who bore the name of my father-sweet cherub -I dreaded seeing him, and determined to spare myself this torture; but, as I slowly, and pensively passed from the house, believing that what was worse than the bitterness of death had passed, this lovely little fellow crossed my path. Sweet innocent, thou wert playful as the frisking lamb of the pasture, totally ignorant of the agonies, which wrung the heart of thy brother. He ran to me, clung around my knees, and looking wishfully in my face, affectingly questioned-'Where are you going? I could not reply, I attempted to move on; he took hold of my garment; 'Let me go with you, brother?' He uttered these questions, in a voice so plaintive, that he pierced my very soul. Surely, had it been possible, I should even then have relinquished my purpose. It was with difficulty that I extricated myself from this supplicating infant. I would have hastened forward, but my trembling limbs re

fused their office; I caught him in my arms, I pressed him to my aching bosom, and but for a burst of tears, which came seasonably to my relief, the struggles of my heart must have choked me. I left him—yes, I left this youngest of my father's children, this dear object of my soul's affection, this infant charge, committed to my care, by an expiring father: I left him in the act of innocent supplication. I left him when I should, with a thousand times less of suffering, have quitted the clay-built tabernacle of my spirit; nor had I aught in prospect, to compensate the sorrows to which I voluntarily submitted!! Surely, there is a hand unseen, which governs the human being, and all his actions; I repeat, truly the way of man is not in himself. Few sufferings could surpass those which, upon this occasion, I endured: My bitterest enemy could not have censured me with more severity, than I censured myself; yet I passed on; no friend could urge my return with more energy, than did the emotions of my own afflicted heart; yet I passed on. True, I passed on slowly; a frame, enfeebled by mental agonies, is not moved without difficulty. I had sent my trunk on in the wagon, to the city of Cork, where I purposed to take passage for England; and with my staff in my hand, I passed on, my eyes fixed on the ground, not wishing to encounter any human eye: It was with much difficulty, I attained the summit of a steep acclivity, where, spent and weary, I sat me down. From this lofty eminence, in full perspective outspread before me, was the place from which I had departed; my eye eagerly ran over the whole scene. Upon a gentle ascent, directly opposite, embosomed in a thick grove of ash, sycamore, and fruit trees, appeared the lovely dwelling of my moth

er.

Behind this eminence, still ascending, was outstretched that garden, in which, with great delight, 1 had so often labored; where had planted herbs, fruits and flowers, in great variety; and where as my departure was in the month of June, they all flourished in high perfection. It was only during the preceding year, that I had added to my stock a large number of the best fruit trees, in the full expectation of reaping the reward of my labors, through many successive seasons. In those tall trees, the cuckoo, the thrush, and the blackbird built their nests; and at early dawn, and at closing eve, I have hung enraptured upon their melodious notes. My swimming eye passed from the garden to the house; there sat my weeping, my supplicating mother, at that moment, probably, uniting with her deserted children in sending up to heaven petitions for my safety. I turned to the right; there towered the stately mansion, I was bid to consider as my own; there dwelt the matron, who hoped I should have been unto her as a son, and who had cherished me as such; there dwelt the charming young lady, whose virtuous attachment might have constituted the solace of my existence. The tear of sorrow, the sigh of disappointinent, no doubt, bedewed their cheeks, and swelled their faithful bosoms! And, oh! I exclaimed, may the balm of peace, may the consolations of the Holy Spirit, be abundantly shed abroad in your hearts,