tinue to feel its torments. I am rapidly approaching the end of all my sorrows. Every hour brings me sensibly nearer to that grave where alone this harassed heart can hope for rest. It was not in my nature to refuse the graceful offers of lord Villars. I could not but confess that he deserved to possess Matilda, and I strove to rejoice that she was secured from sharing the uncertain fortunes of such an outcast as myself. But to live in the daily sight of their affectionate intercourse was too much for my feelings, and the agony of my soul first undermined that best portion of my hopeless youth, health and exertion.

It was thought London did not agree with me; and lord Ernolf, who would not have been sorry to have detached his two sons from pleasures so enticing at their age, proposed my returning with them to the country. But fate disposed otherwise of me. I had been one morning out with lord Villars, and stopped at his father's house in my way home, when, in the next room, I heard a voice which instantly chased the colour from my cheeks. Lord Villars saw me change countenance, and inquired the cause. I eagerly asked who was in the next room.

"I believe," said lord Villars carelessly," there is nobody there but Goldney."

"Goldney!" exclaimed I, "I am then on the point of knowing all.... Lord Villars, indulge me with seeing Mr. Goldney."

Lord Villars, astonished at my too evident agitation, besought me to compose myself: but while he was yet exhorting me to do so, Goldney departed. All composure vanished before this disappointment; and lord Villars, terrified at the state I was in, inquired of the servants when Mr. Goldney was likely to return. They replied that he was going immediately into the country. With the zeal of a true friend, he ordered them to pursue and bring him back if possible, and I remained during their absence in a state of indescribe able emotion.

The effort was successful: they reached Goldney's inn just as he was going to mount his horse, and prevailed on him to return to the earl's before his departure. Lord Villars had taken me into the apartment where his father sat.

The old earl of St. Albans, though too much of a courtier to behave with incivility to any one, had never appeared pleased with me. His conduct had been marked with a cold reserve, and yet a scrutinizing examination, neither of them pleasing to such a temper as mine. He now surveyed me with more attentive curiosity than ever, and attempted not to enter into conversation. Lord Villars, indeed, endeavoured to entertain me; but the earl pretended to be engaged with a book, from which, however, I could perceive him perpetually raising his eyes, and fixing them on my face. At length, a knock at the door gave me reason to expect the return of Mr. Goldney.

It was he, but I took care to be standing, so as that he should not perceive me at his entrance.

"I returned instantly," said he, in a tone of servility, "to receive your lordship's further commands."

The earl expressed his surprise, and I advanced immediately opposite to Goldney.

"They were my commands, Mr. Goldney," said I, "I was unwilling to lose this opportunity of thanking you for past favours."

"I am happy to see you well, Mr. Dellwyn," replied he; "but it is rather inconvenient to me to be detained at present.'

"Stay, sir," said I; "will you favour me with your company in another room?"

The earl looked haughtily at me ...." These are strange liberties in my house, Mr. Dellwyn."

"I heartily beg your lordship's pardon, but if you knew........Lord Villars, will you indulge me with the use of your apartment?"

Lord Villars was kindly leading me thither. Goldney shewed great eagerness to be gone, and lord St,

Albans, in a stern voice, said, "This is a very singular scene; let it be terminated here!"

"With all my heart, my lord," replied I. "Mr. Goldney, I wish to have a categorical answer..... Who am I? Who were my parents? Why am I thus turned adrift on the wide world?"

The earl started up in astonishment...." Frederick," said he to lord Villars, who stood wondering in what this would end, "you have encouraged this insolence: leave the room!"

Lord Villars obeyed the tyrannic mandate of his father, who now ordered me to proceed.

"Let Mr. Goldney answer those questions," said I; "and say why I have hitherto been denied the knowledge of my parents?"

"Is it your lordship's pleasure that I answer these questions?" demanding the fawning Goldney.

"I will answer them myself," said the earl. "I doubt, not young man, that this is a predetermined scheme to affront me; yet I cannot imagine from the events that have taken place, that Mr. Goldney has betrayed his trust. Your conduct, however, evidently proves that you deserved not the intended bounty of your father. But go....you have no father! Return to your original nothingness; leave my house, and if you dare to publish what you think you know, be assured no one will credit you."

"I know nothing, my lord," said I.

"'Tis well then," replied the earl; on this head you ought to know nothing. Leave my house!"

"Mr. Goldney, said I, "I require your company."

"You will excuse me," Mr. Dellwyn," answered he; it is at present impossible."

It was impossible now to repose confidence in the bosom of Matilda. I had not courage to enter into an interesting conversation with a being too fatally dear to my heart; but even, could I in time have sought That resource, I was soon utterly

VOL. I....NO, V.

deprived of it. The next day brought me a letter from lord Villars.

"What can have incensed my father against you so cruelly, I cannot imagine; but trust me, dear Dellwyn, the heart of your friend will not change. Though I am at present forbidden all intercourse with you, depend upon the constant and unalterable friendship of

"Your truly attached

"VILLARS."

This heart-breaking blow was speedily followed by another. Lord Ernolf desired to speak with me. He began a long harangue, parading his gratitude, his esteem, his affec tion. I would have disclaimed his praises; they soon ended of themselves with a qualifying but...........

I was aware, he knew of the intimate connection between his family and lord St. Albans. I had offended the earl; he could not imagine how a man of my gentle manners could have given so irreparable offence; but in short....

"In short, my lord," replied I, "the earl requires you to dismiss me: he has made a similar request to his son: the earl is extremely obliging; he is determined to teach me to feel the natural independency of man. My lord, our obligations have been mutual. If I had the good fortune to render you a piece of service, you have, in return, treated me with delicacy and kindness; nay, my obligations to you are of a superior kind: your lordship will accept my best thanks....you will allow me to bid your sons adieu."

"Nay, go not so," Mr. Dellwyn; let me give you some more substantial mark of my gratitude."

"Pardon me, my lord, there is no contract between us. I return to the world richer than when I entered your lordship's mansion: I have acquired more knowledge of man!"

Again lord Ernolf would have pressed some pecuniary reward upon me; but I spurned the idea of receiving assistance from a being who could so far adopt the prejudices

9

of another, as to abandon a man from whom he had received an important personal service, and who had undertaken for him the dignified task of leading the mind of youth through the toilsome paths of learning and virtue. Lord Ernolf was offended at my resolution: he called it pride, and left me with less complacency in his manner than when he first addressed me.

My farewel to the two boys was short, but friendly: they loved and respected their tutor, and the principles he taught them will never disgrace themselves or him. I wished to have avoided the saying "adieu!" to the lady Matilda; but she sought me. She spoke in the voice of the tenderest friendship; she entreated me to let her know what became of me; she referred me to the stability of her Henry's friendship, to my own merits, and to the power of time for raising me to happiness. I thanked her for her consolations, affected to believe them sufficient, and departed.

I felt that, if I could depend on lord Villars's friendship, he was at least too much under the controul of a domineering father, to have it in his power to serve me. My merits, I found, were insufficient to support me against calumny and unfounded enmity; and time......yes, I felt already that a very short time would indeed put an end to my sorrows. I was now, with respect to my future prospects, precisely in the situation I was on quitting Goldney's house. I had still my pen to depend on, and I had improved my stock of experience; but other circumstances cast a shade over every effort: health was hourly eluding my grasp, nor had the fatal passion for Matilda undermined that alone....it had also robbed me of the power of exertion. Yet that ardent passion preserved me from ever committing a mean or a vicious action; it ennobled all my views, and rectified my notions. Of the enmity of lord St. Albans, I thought little....that of lord Ernolf was cepicable! I now lived for my self alone! It was necessary to exert

myself, and my pen at times gained me a decent subsistence; but this subsistence was precarious, and I was sometimes in a state almost amounting to starving!

I disdained, however, to let either lord Villars or the lady Matilda know where I had hidden my wretched head; but I found all my fond dreams of fame and grandeur gradually fade away, and I could not help wishing, at some impious moments, to exchange situations with any poor mechanic, whose labour secured to him a decent and permanent subsistence. Then again, when I had obtained a fresh supply of that necessary yellow dirt, which serves in civilized nations as the medium of life, I would wander forth amid fields and woods,and feel triumphant at my own independency. I would feel too the morsel more sweet, for being gained by mental talents.....I would feel it almost sacrilege to wish to exchange the luxury of internal refinement and cultivation for any pecuniary advantages the world can offer.

My mind sometimes dwelt on the strange conduct of lord St. Albans: an idea that I was his son haunted me. How else could he so readily have conceived the meaning of my questions to Goldney? Why else should he have answered them as he did? This persuasion became daily stronger and stronger, and I determined to stand once more before lord St. Albans. I had nothing to detain me in one place more than another. I loitered therefore near his house, till I was convinced that neither lord Villars nor lady Matilda were at home, and the door being opened to me by a servant, to whom I was unknown, I was introduced at once to the earl.

He knew me instantly, and ordered the man to turn me out. Icalmly turned round to the man, and assured him I was no ruffian, but had particular and private business with lord St. Albans. The man, as was his duty, was preparing to obey his master. I was, however, at that moment nerved by resolution, and

seizing him, forcibly pushed him out of the room; then calmly securing the door, I advanced to the earl.

"My lord," said I, "you would not be so eager to dismiss me, were you not conscious I have a claim to be heard. I am your son, lord St. Albans!" His teeth gnashed with rage....his cheeks lost every particle of colour....I repeated aloud, "I am your son!"

"Where did you....who has dared...."

His words were now not more incoherent than unintelligible.

"My lord," resumed I, "you yourself have been my informer. Your emissary, Goldney, has been true to his trust. Your own unjustifiable rage, your present agitation all confirm it. I am your son!"

"I defy you," said he, "to prove your words."

"I am perfectly indifferent," returned I, "whether they are ever proved or not. I mean not to assume any splendor in consequence of

you are my father....and can proudly say, I was not unworthy of your intended bounty....I am not unworthy of your regard and affection; but think not, my lord, that I would now accept either: your bounty I should despise, and your affection I could not return.”

"This insolence is past bearing," said the earl.

"I am not insolent, my lord," said 'I; "I am only resolute. Declare once upon your honour that I am not your son, and I will make any apology for my conduct, and quit your presence directly."

"Are you to dictate to me," said lord St. Albans, "the conditions on which you will leave me at peace?"

"I have a right to insist on an answer to this question," said I;

you have raised this idea in my heart, and I am entitled to have it confirmed or destroyed by a positive answer!"

of an earl; but suffer me to ask, why was I brought into the world, why was I taught all kinds of learning, and then left to chance, to misery, to ruin ?"

"Let me ask you two questions, Mr. Dellwyn," said the earl sternly, but calmly. "If you are not my son, in what light can you justify this conduct? And if you are such, how dare you question your father?"

"If the name of father gives you any rights, my lord," replied I, "the name of son gives me no fewer! The sort of protection hitherto bestowed, the education I have received, perhaps call upon you for still more than the mere paternal relation. If, on the contrary, I am not your son, I may demand, in my turn, what meant your vehemence when I met Mr. Goldney here?"

“Learn all you wish to know of Goldney," retorted the earl....... "He can explain the mystery to you."

"He cannot root from my bosom," returned I," the conviction tha

wanting.

LordVillars was kind, affectionate, and generous, but his endeavours came too late; the incurable blow was struck, and I laboured under the slow but sure disease of a broken heart. In vain he spoke to me in the voice of the most soothing friendship; in vain he dwelt upon the name of brother: I could not reflect without horror that I owed my birth to a man who had disgraced humanity by his treatment of my mother. Too feeble now to record the dreadful tissue of villany by which she was deceived, I can only say, it ought to stamp the name of St. Albans with eternal infamy. The amiable lady Villars too exerted all her powers to console me. spoke to me of my unfortunate mother; she recollected every little incident that she thought would prove to me her superiority to her sorrows. As she described her, I

She

thought of my dear Miss Goldney, now dear to me in the sad light of sister to my mother.

Lord Villars was pleased to see the power the soothings of his Matilda had over my mind. He besought me to reside wholly with them; but though the love I bore to the lovely lady Villars was no longer impetuous, it was still too tender to allow me to see her daily. The tones of her voice, the touch of her hand, the glance of her eye quickened my pulses, and agonized my feelings. I became convinced that I should only linger on in irremediable weakness, while I continued to behold her so frequently. I determined to remove to a distance from those, whose friendship, more than any earthly blessing, would have soothed me, but for the nature of my feelings for the lady Matilda.

I resolved to bend my course into Wales. I passed through the village where mine infant years had been spent. I wept over the grave of my dear Miss Goldney; and as I gazed on the records of frail mortality which surrounded me, I perceived in an obscure corner, a plain black tablet, which I approached....

MARIA GOLDNEY, AGED 25.

Oh, what bitter tears did I shed over the tomb of my mother! I knew not how to tear myself thence!

At length I reached this romantic country; but its pure air, its salubrious whey cannot restore a constitution broken by incurable sorrow. I have found here hospitality unbounded, sympathy sincere, and genuine affection. Yes, worthy and virtuous people, your generous simplicity has soothed a broken heart, and calmed the jarring irritated passions of an injured man. thou, lovely flower, whose mild eyes beam the sweetest pity for sorrows no human aid can relieve, Oh may thy lot through life be happy! May no artful villain lay snares for thy unsuspecting innocence; but happy in mutual love,mayst thou sometimes

And

shed a melancholy tear over my early grave!

Had I been left in utter ignorance, I might have been contented and happy. No dreams of perfection, no visions of felicity would have disturbed my quiet ease; but ah, ever dear Miss Goldney! you opened to my view a species of happiness, to which my soul was congenial; nor could mere vulgar comforts have satisfied a being who had been formed by your converse! Not long will it be ere I join your pure spirit and my blessed mother's in those realms whence we shall view with pity the errors of misguided man! I feel daily the approaches of the deliverer, Death! I welcome those symptoms which tell me I have not long to groan under the sense of hopeless misery: even now I can rejoice in the continued happiness of lord Villars and Matilda. Dear to my soul as she will ever be, while it retains its consciousness, my love is purified from every selfish emotion, and exults in her felicity. To that love I have owed much.......

There abruptly ends this little history. Whether thus suddenly left by the increasing weakness of its hapless writer, or whether another leaf has been lost, I cannot determine: such as it is, however, it is sufficiently connected to create interest; and the gentle spirit of Philip Dellwyn will be gratified with the sympathy his fate will have excited.

BIOGRAPHICAL MEMOIRS OF THE LATE DR. DARWIN.

CONCERNING this far-celebrated man, whose death we had the painful task of announcing in our last number, we have collected the following particulars:.....Erasmus Darwin, the seventh child and and fourth son of Robert Darwin, Esq. was born at Elston, near Newark, in Nottinghamshire, on the 12th of December, 1731; he received his early education at Ches