O! dear, O! dear, I never saw her so much distressed 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 endeavoured to avoid it. Some time elapsed before he spoke ; he repeatedly attempted to speak, but mingling grief and rage arrested his utterance. At last he said: “Well, siṛ, 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 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

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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 my fixed determination to repair to England, she was to lose me, perhaps for ever; 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 oppose 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 of which she would accept : penny beloved child, if you No, my 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 exigencies. Through your filia: 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, thut 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 assurance, 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 soń, 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 and oh! my son, behalf; 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 bedew

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ed 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 endeavoured to give them that consolation which I did not myself possess. But, hastening from this scene of sorthere was one pang, which 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? shall not I 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 refused 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 choaked 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 ought 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 loved dwelling of my mother. Behind this eminence, still ascending, was outstretched that garden, in which, with great delight, I had so often laboured; where I 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 labours, 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 disappointment, 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.

As thus, from scene to scene, my eager eye with tearful haste had wandered, my heart reiterated its unutterable agonies; and, as I considered my situation as resembling that of the father of mankind, when driven from the paradise, to which state of blessedness it was decreed he never was to return, I would gladly have laid me down and died I would have given the world, had it been at my disposal, to have reinstated myself in the situation, and circumstances, I had so inconsiderately relinquished; but this was impossible, and this con