FRAGMENT IV.

"How calm, how unimpassioned does nature and her elements seem around me! Every thing appears happy and contented. The birds warble their notes of praise to their Creator-neither do I think that they ever experience the pangs of disappointed love, ambition, or fame. Though we are called lords of the creation, yet my opinion of myself as one of these lords is very different from what it was when I was comparatively happy. I think that we often assume а superiority over the works of nature which does not belong to us. What do I expect,— that nature will sympathise with my sorrows? No and vain indeed would be the hope. Still the fields display the brightest green, the trees bloom, and the stars of night shed their lustre; but, oh! if nature embodied the elements of misery which I feel, her loveliness

would fade, the leaves wither, and not a note of gladness be heard.

"Yesterday evening I passed in the house of a country musician. He played several Irish airs on his fiddle; their simple, but deep and feeling melody, affected me much-my heart was swollen. Oh, these Irish! how I love every thing allied with them—their ardent feeling, disinterestedness, and genuine friendship! Here only, in Erin's beauteous isle, have I met with sympathy, kindness, and hospitality without suspicion. At the door of the most miserable cabin-age and oppression has made many such-I have received the hand of welcome, and the look and word of kindness-nothing like coldness-that English coldness. I remember staying one night at a farmer's house in a secluded part of the country; about midnight, a knock was heard at the door. 'In God's name, who's there?' said the farmer. I belong to D————, and I have lost my way,' was the answer. In a moment the door was opened, the stranger admitted, the turf fire rekindled, the potatoes and milk laid before him with the welcome of

the most intimate friend. Why, in England he would have been hunted from the door as a robber, or have been committed to jail. under the Vagrant Act!"

FRAGMENT V.

"SOON, oh! soon shall I sink into the bosom of the grave. Yet my cheek does not fade, nor my brow wrinkle as rapidly as I could wish. My health is far too good. I could love to see my frame emaciated, and my cheeks furrowed. There is nothing now to bind me to earth; for what is it that could make existence desirable? Is it not sociality, sympathy, and the endearments of love and friendship? Is it not the society of her who I once thought loved me, but whose smile another now receives ? Oh, Mary! wert thou mine, no earthly power should separate thee from me, thou shouldst be in my breast for ever, sheltered from the coldness of this world. Couldst thou know the melancholy consequences of thy unfaithfulness—the anguish of heart-the shipwreck of fondly cherished hopes -- thou wouldst relent and mourn over my fate.

K

"O, thou Supreme Power! how long have I been in acknowledging thy goodness, thy patient dealing towards thy ungrateful creature! How have I lived, regardless of my Creator, and his will! What has become of my early religious disposition, my ardent love of religious truth? O, pardon me! and give me a heart to love thee and submit to thy teaching."