1 forgot all all whom I ought to have loved-all whom I ought to have esteemed-bim who begat nie-her who bore-me-the friends who counselled me-way, the believing maid who had accepted my early plighted vows; my fame-my fortunes-all present and fature good-all were absorbed in the whirlpool of vice. Yet, before turned my back upon my sire, he took hold of my hand he pressed it (Oh that I could now feel that pressure! 'twould save me, 'twould snatch me from perdition. My father! Ah, no, I call in

; he hears me not. Yet, at this instant of horrible decision, I seem again to hear the accents of his quivering lips) Charles," said he, “you lease us whence this unkindness; stay with us awhile, at least, until you hare-regained your better mind. What offends you? is it my poverty?-remember what share you have taken in the cause. Is it because I can no longer minister to your extravagance? -alas! you know i have no more to give. Look at these tears-are they tears of joy! Let your own heart answer the needless question. Turn your eyes upon your fainting mother-under what horden does she sink? and who has brought upon her the deadly weight? My Charles! my son!~nay, do not repulse my yearning heart, my poor mistaken boy! my erring yet forgiven chid-O be again. what once I rejoiced to see you be again our endeared, our virtuous child, and you will, indeed, be happy. Charles, how this cold hand chris my frame!-And are you so lost to all my endearments? Must I part with you thus-Ah! I have lived too loug, for my own flesh and blood shrinks from my touch-my child tears his father's beart with willing hands.". I would hear no more; I stamped in fary on the floor, and casting him from ne, hurried out of the room; the next morning I found myself at the lodg ings of the mistress of my deceased friced. With her I lived in all the pro⚫ tigate habits of criminal dissipation, until my ready money was all exhausted; I then sold my half-pay. This was soon gone. And then, at her instigation, I wrote to my father a peniteutial letter, full of expressions of pretended remorse -hypocrisy suggested falsehood, and I framed a story of my having been arrested for eighty pounds; that I rwold be eternally disgraced if I did not discharge the debt that, as soon as this was done, I would return to the

parsonage; and, having seen my errot, would gladly recover his good opinion, and requite his fatherly care, by an unremitting life of filial compensation for the cruel unkindness of my conduct. I entreated my dearest mother (for so I prostituted the hallowed terms of affection to the purpose of a lie) would forgive and again receive her prodigal, who now desired nothing so much as to mingle his tears of contrition with those which I was still in hope would be to her a constant spring of future joy.This ariful scheme succeeded-I received a dratt for 1001, with a letter from each of my deluded parents-not a syllable of reproach-not a sentence of sorrowful complaining-all was generous, forgiving, and affectionate. Oh, Sir, by what infatuation was I still burried on to my destruction. The vile partner of my guilt mocked at the tenderness which she knew I did not deserve-Nay, even 1, despicable ingrate as I was, joined in the abominable ridicule. A few days more, and this supply was wasted. For a month we lived upon credit. At last, my creditors became clamorous; and, amidst all the mortifications of a state of debt, I received a letter from my father, throngh the correspondent on whom he had drawn. But ah, Sir, to what a use did I apply it. The foul fiend to whom I had surrendered my honor, my truth, and my conscience, hinted how easy it would be to imitate my father's hand, and to draw another draft as a posteript to this letter. Lost as I was to every just feeling this suggestion struck me with alarm-1 hesitated, and attempted to reason against the proposal; nor did she prevail with me until she threatened to leave me. The woman was now necessary to my happiness - and I dreaded her carrying her threat into execution, more than I did the perpetration of so infamous a deed. length, I assented-and forged my fa ther's hand-writing for 1301. The same person gave me the cash, but added, that, with the hope of its being remitted by the end of the month, he would honour the draft, although he was now in considerable advance-he knew, however, my father's integrity, and should trust to him for the return of the amount within the time he had mentioned. I wrote to my father to allay the fears he had expressed for my welfare, and promised

At

that I would be with him in a week. This promise I never meant to keep-for Isot out with the shameless companion of

my wickedness for France, the very next day. But, Sir, to shorten this detail of iniquity, I shall pass over many interme'diate events, uninteresting to all but -those whom I would not gratify with the success of a system of fraud and deception by which I contrived to secure resources for the licentious in dulgences of a month's residence in Paris. My father had discovered all. To stop those proceedings against me which must have ended fatally, he hushed up the matter of the forgery sold his small living to pay the amount, and retired into lodgings with my mother, in an obscure street in Dublin. On the morning which brought me a letter from him, was deprived of the woman whom I now began to consider in a different light to that in which I bad hitherto regarded her. A ci-devant officer of Buonaparte's Garde de Corps relieved me at once by taking her off with him to Marseilles. At first, I felt as if my honor was deeply injured, and made preparations to follow him, and to demand satisfaction for his conduct --but a moments' reflection convinced me that honor had nothing to do with it, and I turned my thoughts to once again seeking a reconciliation with my parents. I now began to be sensible of something like real sorrow for the undutiful and degrading tenor of my life. Those who have no gratitude in them selves are most prompt to exclaim against the ungrateful principles of others when they themselves are the sufferers. I loudly inveighed against the selfish treachery of her for whose sake I had turned my back upon my weeping parents-I saw, and for that moment felt, that the companions of

our vices are not to be trusted with our happiness. The recollection of what I night have been, and the conviction of what I was, rolled in a tide of self-upbraidings upon my mind. I resolved to nicasure back my steps, and endeavour to regain that peace of mind which I had so rashly thrown away. I now took up my pen to express the genuine feel. ings of my heart; but I feared they would be suspected by those whom I had already so cruelly deceived. 1 quickly followed my letter, and arrived in Dublin the day after it had reached them. When Fentered the room, my father looked at me (even now his coustenance is before me) with that inde, scribable mixture of parental reproach and regret, and with so much unutterable grief in every feature, that I stood

condemned before him, without the power of saying a word in extenuation of my transgressions. My mother, too, ah! so altered-so wan-so despondent. What could I do? I implored their forgiveness; not so much considering my crimes as the baneful consequence which they had produced in the health and comfort of those who were still dear to me-nay, dearer, at that instant, than

ever.

The pardon was granted; and even with an assurance that they would for get as well as forgive the violation of their peace. I was again in the abode of piety and virtue-for a time I felt as if ! was born anew-I was again their son-I had been lost and was found; dead, and was alive again. It was settled that I should go into partnership with a friend of my father's in the wool trade. A capital was required; this was advanced, partly in cash and the rest in bills. All was accomplished according to my wish, and now I had only to return to the path of rectitude to be as happy as I could desire. My partner was a few years younger than my father; two years before my joining him, he had married a young woman of respectable connexions and considerable property; I saw her, and instantly marked her for my prey. I became the subile tempter of her virtue, and like the wily serpent, gradually insinuated myself into her affections. succeeded in my diaboli cal plans-she was my victim. For some months our illicit correspondence proceeded without discovery or suspi cion. But her heart was not vicious, and her conscience rejected the hypocrisy and falsehood which she was com pelled to practise. Her scruples be came troublesome to me, and her coutinual reproaches exasperated me. At length she resolved to rid herself of the abject tyranny of guilt with which she felt herself oppressed. She fled one evening from her husband and her infant children; and, in an hour after, she was brought home apparently drowned. The means used for her recovery were successful. I was in the house, suspecting nothing of her intentions. My partner was distracted; and I had scarcely command enough over myself to assume that sort of interest which thought might shew sufficient concern for him without betraying any extraordinary agitation. But, Sir, I must confess the depravity of my heart: 1 secretly wished that she might not he recovered. As soon, however, as the

was come to herself, she desired to be left alone with her husband. I waited in trepidation below. I heard his hurried step, in a few minutes after, destending the staircase. He burst open the door of the room in which I was sitting Wretch," said he, "it is to you owe this misery." He threw him. self upon me and seized me by the throat in a paroxysm of rage With difficulty disengaged myself from his grasp, and, by an effort of superior strength, cast him upon the floor. I then left the house and departed to my lodgings. There I found a note from the aunt of Miss Emma P***, a young lady to whom I paid my addresses even at the time that I was carrying on my infamous amour with the wife of my partner. In this note I received a positive dismissal of my pretensions, and an interdict of all future visits to the house; accompanied with the information that my shameless conduct to wards Mrs. was already known, and that, by the time I received that note, Miss P. would have left Dublin for Hamburgh; where her uncle would protect her from the insolent persecu tion of so base a wretch as I had proved myself to be.

To an hour after this a friend of my partner's called upon me, with a mes sage from hin, demanding instaut satisfaction for the irreparable outrage which I had committed upon his peace and happiness. At first, I hesitated; but the expression of cowardly traitor' determined me, and I accepted the challenge-to meet him on the next morning, at the time and place appointed. A young officer of my regimeat was upon a visit in the city. I Went to him directly, and he readily promised to go out with me.

I will not attempt to describe to you the conflicts of my mind—the horrors of my conscience - and the sinkings of my heart: I was then convinced that, how ever desperate a man may he, true courage has not a place in the guilty breast. I staid with my young friend until the morning dawned: I then returned to my lodgings; wrote a short letter to my father and mother, beseeching them to forget that they ever had a son, in every sense se unworthy of them, and imploring them not to curse my memory should fail in the rencontre. I expressed myself anxious to die-that my crimes had rendered me hateful to my self, to society, and my God, and that I would never again, brave their re

proaches. This letter I put into the hands of my Second as we proceeded to. the fatal spot. My partner and I met—the ground was twelve paces. We fired two cases-The Seconds interfered; but he would hear of no compromise, and was resolved that one of us should fall. My next fire took effect. The ball struck him in the forehead, and he fell a corpse into the arms of his friend. I disdained to fly, and surrendered myself to a magistrate, who committed me to prison. My wretched parents flew to me, 1 refused to see them. In a week after, I heard that my father had been attacked with an apoplectic fit, which had carried him off in two days; and my mother, unable to bear up against the accumulation of her sorrows, lost her senses. I was brought to trial; and, heedless of what might be the result, I pleaded guilty; and my sentence has been the heaviest punishment I could endure. Instantaneous death had been mercy; for worse than the most cruel of deaths has been my doom, to live through the two years of my sentence. My brain has at times given way beneath the torments of reflection, and I have been deprived of every possible opportunity of ridding myself of a detested existence, until last night; when, having previously appeared more collected for a fortnight past, I contrived to deceive one of my fellow-prisoners, so far as to induce him to lend me a pen-knife, under the pretext of wanting it to mend any pen.

My hour is come, and I rush upon self-destruction as the only resource that I can seek for my repose. And will it be repose! Ah! what rest can there remain for a soul so deeply plunged in' guilt as mine. I go to an unknown world, and an unknown God. At this moment a voice from the tomb shrieks in my ears, there is no peace to the wicked.' My murdered father-my assassinated parluer and his maddened wife-my poor lunatic mother, stand before nie! Yes, you shall be satisfied. Blood demands blood! The hand that writes this, lays down the pen to take up the instrument of death! I pause but to thank you, Sir, for all your pas toral attentions; but no- prayer can reach the throne of grace in my behalfI am a fit companion for devils. Now, now, Sir, the earth is no longer insulted by the fiend that has stained it with the heart's-gore of his dearest and nearest friends-his generous and abused benefactors. Que last effort and the

On the evening this ill-fated youth wrote this, he attempted the dreadful act of suicide-He failed to accomplish it. I have been frequently with him since, and have, I trust, brought him to a just sense of his flagitious design. I will transmit to you by the next packet the result of my visits and admonitions; should you think that the narrative will be of any service as a warning to those young persons who embrace with so much precipitancy the vicious delights of the world, and shut their hearts and their cars against all parental claims upon their filial obedience and prudentjal submission to the advice and expe rience of the virtuous and the wise.

HISTORY OF PETER PLIANT.

(Continued from page 312.) HATEVER importance the ge

W morality of mankind may ascribe

to riches, experience, the test of all opinions, convinces us that the happiness arising from them consists not in the pos session, but in a proper and conscientious application. It is absurd, therefore, for a man to value himself on what cannot enhance his own individual merit ; før, though riches may confer an abundance of earthly gratifications, and rank secure him universal homage, be is only to be envied so far as he renders them conducive to the purposes of benevo lence. Pride should not exuit at the acquisition of wealth, nor ostentation be puffed up with the trappings of grandeur; for as the possession of either seldom, if ever, implies "a contented mind," they are rather to be considered as a burthen to the journey of life, than any alleviation of its numerous disappointments.

No one was a better philosopher in these matters than my father, who regulated his actions by a true Christian principle. His estate being small, he had good opportunities of inspecting the conduct of his tenants, and was ai ways endeavouring to promote their benefit by a proper application of his wealth.

To carry this design more effectually, into execution, it was his custom annually to collect his tenants together, to observe who had benefited by his assistauce, and who stood most in need of it; in short, to administer to their wants in,

such a manner as appeared to him advisable. The proceedings of the day were concluded by a rustic feast, in which all the neighbours for two or three miles round regularly partici pated. It was a pleasing sight to see the humble villagers arrayed in their best garments, wearing the smiles of cheerfulness and gratitude, arranging themselves round the verdant lawn before the house, join in the dance and merriment. Scenes like these redound so much to the honour of human nature, that I saw the day approach with pleasure when, according to my father's will, this little memorial of his kindness was to be continued.

1

But not all the preparations for this festival, combined with the puceasing and troublesome anxiety of Mr. Somers, who always acted as master of the ceremonies on these occasions, could divest my mind of Manning Hail.” I had indeed delayed my visit longer than intended, Loping that Mr. Manning would have paid a casual visit; but the day drawing near when the feast was to be held, and wishing to be favoured with their presence, I mounted my horse one morning and rode over.

Froin the reverie in which I was plunged during my ride, an idle spectator might have drawn unfavourable inferences, and fancied me either debating on the virtues of the philosophers' stone, or calculating the probability of perpetual motion; but far different were the thoughts which occupied my imagination. Fancy, that bewitching fairy, was representing a variety of agreeable images, which I would gladly recapitu late: but as the days when they would have been acceptable to you are over, and your readers in general may consider it a waste of time, I will not embody the visions which delighted me, and which were only dispelled by my arrival at Mr. Manning's.

You may easily conceive the palpitat ing motion of a heart that finds itself so near the object of its affection, especially when it has resolved to declare itself. Summoning up, there fore, all my resolution, I ventured in; but understanding that the family had gone out for a walk, took a turn in the garden to compose my perturbed spirits. I derived a little consola. tion in her absence, by observing the improvements that had been made under her direction; though my passion had not arrived to that exquisite degree of refinement, that I fancied the air