in the country, that none but our servant, who is faithful to the se have ever been to this enchanti ings, that would otherwise exhaust you "When such is the result, when peace and piety are the offspring of the act, you will not woader at my visits to this melancholy ruin; soon as the shades of evening have spread their friendly covert, twice a week we hasten hither from our cottage a scene, similar to what have been a spectator of to-night, takes place, and we retire to rest, in the little rooms which we have rendered habitable in the dormitory. In the morning, very early, we quit the house of penitence and prayer, and such is the dread which the occasional glimmerings of light, &the sounds! of distant music have given birth to we have consequently hitherto, save by yourself, remained undiscovered, and even unsuspected. 'Such, my friend is the history of my crimes and sufferings, and such the causes of the phenomena you have beheld to-night-but see, Courtenay, my lovely Caroline, she to whom, under heaven I am indebted for any portion of tran quility I yet enjoy, is approaching to meet us. I can discern her by the whiteness of her robes, gliding down yon distant aisle.' Caroline had become apprehensive of her brother, and had stolen from the dormitory, with a view of.. checking a conversation, which she was afraid would prove 100 affecting for his spirits. Edward beheld her as she drew near rather as a being from the blest, the messenger of peace and virtue, than as partaking of the faculties of humanity. If the beauties of her person had before interested him in her favor, her conduct toward the unhappy Clifford had given him the fullest conviction of the purity and goodness of her heart, of the strength and energy of her mind, and from this moment he determined if possible, to secure an interest in a bosom so fraught with all that could exalt and decorate the lot of life. He was compelled, however, though reluctantly, to take leave of his fiends for the night, and basten to remove the extreme alarm into which his servants had been thrown by his unexpected detention. They had approached as near as their fears would permit them, to the abbey, for to enter its precincts was indeed they thought too daring for man, and had there exerted all their strength, though in vain, in repeatedly callIng him by his name. It was therefore with a joy, little short of nadness, they again beheld their master, who as soon as these symptoms of rapture had subsided, had great difficulty in repressing their curiosity, which was on full stretch for information from another world. It may here perhaps be neces. sary to add that time, and the soothing attentions of his beloved sister, restored at length to perfect peace, and to the almost certain hope of pardon from the Deity, the hitherto agitated mind of Clifford. -I can add also that time saw the union of Caroline and Edward, and that with them at the hospitabie mansion of the Courtenays, Clifford passed the remainder of his days. (Concluded.) THE UNEXPFCTED DECLARATION. A Tale. The first temptations and in clination to serve from the paths and Charics Euston and Frederic Barlow, having been educated in the same public seminary, had contracted an intimacy with eachother which increased every day into the closest connection and with their ripening years produced the warmest and most enthusiastic friendship. In their youthful sports they were inseperable, they seemed to possess their liule property in common. Neither could want any thing that belonged to the other, for the moment his wish was discovered by his companion it was at his dispos al. In their business in the school, each aided the other to the utmost of his ability; and in any ittle dispute with their companions they invariable took part with each other. When they had obtained to more mature yaers, the same disinterested friendship continued between them; and though they were now sometimes separated from each other for considerable intervals, an espis'olary correspondence maintained their inviolable connection; and their temporary separations seemed only to render their attachment to each other sull more close and strong. When a few yrs had thus of honor and propriety of conductil passed on, a more tender and more forcible passian than that of friendship arose in the breast of Mr. Luston. He had seen Amelia Warton. He saw, and he admired; he admired, and he loved; he loved, and he sought hor approbation of his passion. This his sincere and natural expressions of his ardent affection soon obtained; or Amelia was no coquett, and a stranger to affectation. With a most delicate modesty, and in a language which the heart well understands, she gave her consent that he should love her; and Mr. Euston felt a happiness utterlyunknown to him before. He seemed as it were to be born into a new world, a new world of transcendent felicity. In his next letter to his friend Frederic, he communicated to him his happiness. He described his lovely Amelia in the most glowing and rapturous language. He expatiated on the delicacy of her manners, the gentleness of her disposition, & the benign goodness of her heart. In short she formed almost the only subject of his letter; for as he could think of nothing else, so of nothing else could he write.' A short time after Mr. Barlow made a visit to his friend Euston and was by him introduced to the idol of his heart, the charming Amelia. Fatal, alas was the introduction to all the parties. Mr. Barlow had smiled at the panegyric of his friend George, on the beauties and admirable qual ities of his mistress; he had taken it for merely the rhapsody of a lov er who had been blinded to defects by his passion: but when he beheld Amelia, he was so struck at the first sight of her, that all the eulogiums of his friend appeared to him poor and barien in comparison with her excellence. The more he gazed, and the more he conversed with her, the more he admited her; and this admiration soon, became a most violent passion, which might be called love, could that name be given to what is contrary to every obligation of honor, to every claim of friendship. Though the solemn union of hands had not absolutely taken place between Mr. Euston and Amelia, Mr. Barlow knew well that their hearts were pledged to each other: and his conscience could not but tell him that it was base and even criminal in no small degree to attempt to break such a bond espe cially when it could only be done by acting in the most treacherous manner towards the man with whom he had always lived in, habits of the strictest and most ardent friendship. But Mr. Barlow did not attempt to restrain his reprehensible passion, but suffered it to increase upon him till he formed the perfidious design to supplant, if possible, his friend. He found some op portuniues of being with Amelia when Mr. Euston was not present, for the generous disposition of the latter prevented his perceiving of even suspecting the designs of his now treacherous friend. On these occasions he always spoke to her very slightingly of Mr. Euston, and endeavoured to insinuate that he was by no means the man be ap peared to be either in character, disposition, or property. When he hoped that by these suggestions he had made soute imp.ession on her, he took an oportunity, when they were alone in a park near the residence of Mr. Euston, to throw himself in a suppliant posture, and make a most vehement declaration of his passion. Amelia was thunder-struck, and stood like one almost deprived of sense. When she had recovered herself a little from the first shock, she endeavoured to get from him: but he forcibly detained her, and behaved as if frantic; while she trembled in the utmost agitation, and cried out aloud for assistance, under the strongest impressions of fear for her person. very It chanced that at this time Mr. Euston had unexpectedly returned home, and was coming into the park in quest of his dear Amelia and his friend. He heard her cries with equal astonishment and alarm, and hastily rushing for wards to the spot, found that his bosom frieud in whom he never could have conceived the existence of treachery, was the author of the assault. Rage and indignation on the part of Mr. Euston, surprise dano n the part of the per filious assailant and confusion and terror on that of Amelia, rendered them all three for some moments silent. At length, the injured lover having enquired of Amelia what had passed, and been imperfectly informed by her, as well as the extreme agitation she'suffered would permit, burst forth in a torrent of the bitterest eproaches on the base httempter to supplant him in the affections of her he held dearer than his life. Barlow, enraged at the detection, and the contemptible situation in which he was placed, answered with equal vehemence and asperity, and from mutual invectives they passed, not indeed to immediate blows, but fo a challenge to decide their fatal dispute with pistols. In despite of all the entreaties, of all the adjurations of the agonised Amelia, they met, according to appointment, a few hours afterwards. At the first fie each wounded his antagonist. Mr. Euston received the ball in his body, and Mr. Barlow in the upper part of the arm. Mr. Euston's wound appeared at first the most serious; but the bone of Mr. Barlows arm being shattered, and a mortification beginning to make its appearance, he was obliged to suffer amputation. The ball was extracted from Mr. Euston's wound, and he seemed to be in no danger, but in a few months it appeared that some internal part of consequence had been so much injured as to produce a rapid decline, to which he fell a victim in less than a twelve-month. Amelia, His classical knowledge Mr. Pitt acquired under the care of a private tutor at Burton-Pynsent, the seat of his father; and the earl took great pleasure in teaching him while yet a youth to argue with logical precision, and to speak with elegance and force. He himself frequently entered into disputations with him, and en Such was the scene of misery cccasioned by not restraining the violence of an improper and discouraged him to converse with ̧ honorable passion on its first ap learance. MEMOIRS of the LIFE of the late Honorable WILLIAM PITT. others upon subjects far above WILLIAM PITT was the young.sga acquired that quality which is est son of the illustrious earl of Chatham, and was born on the 28th of the first consequence in public life-a suficient degree of firm of May 1759, when his father'sness and presence of mind, as well as a ready delivery, in which he was wonderfully aided by nature. glory was at its zenith; and when, in consequence of the wisdom of his counsels and the vigour and promptitude of his decisions, British valour was triumphant in evey part of the globe. On the accession of his present majesty, that great statesman retired from the situation which he had so honorably filled, and consigning his two eldest sons to the care of others, devoted the whole of his time to the education of William, on a strong, and, as the event sucwed, a well-founded persuasion,' of their power the intentions of At between 14 and 18 years of age, he was placed under the care of a very worthy and enlightened clergyman. Mr. (now Dr.) Wilson, and sent to Pembroke colege Cambridge; where he was admitted under the tuition of Messrs. Turner and Prettyman (the former now Dr. Tuner, dean of Norwich; the latterbishop of Lincoln). These able men seconded to the utmost |