Whatever hopes I might have entertained of Cousin John's reformation, they have now vanished. Vice has evidently triumphed: may he see his error before it is too late!

It is now many years ago since I thus met with Cousin John; but I have occasionally heard of him, and he is still the same gay and thoughtless being as he was. Time flies unheeded by him, and unless his career is arrested by an Unseen Power, I fear the silver hairs of old age will fall over his brow before he thinks of the notable fact that earth is not the rest of man. Then it may be too late for reflection!

"When in the sweet and pleasant month of May
We see both leaves and blossoms on the tree,

And view the meadows in their best array,
We hopeful are a joyful spring to see:
Yet oft before the following night be past

It chanceth that a vapour or a frost

Doth all those forward blossoms wholly waste,

And then their sweetness and their beauty's lost.

Such is the state of every mortal wight;

In youth our glories and our lusts we shew,

We fill ourselves with ev'ry vain delight,

And will not think on that which may ensue.

But let us learn to heed as well as know,

That spring doth pass; that summer steals away;
And that the flower which makes the fairest shew,
Ere many weeks must wither and decay.".

WITHER.

CHAP. III.

A LETTER FROM MY OLD FRIEND GERVASE. -RELATES THE DEATH OF MY COMPANION WILLIAM GERVASE.-WILLIAM'S CHARACTER. — CAUTION NECESSARY IN MAKING FRIENDS. — COWPER'S REMARKS ON A PUBLIC EDUCATION. WILLIAM GERVASE, AN EXAMPLE OF ITS FAIL- URE IN PRODUCING HIGH MORAL CHARACTER. A CHANGE AT LEE COTTAGE.— ALLUSION TO THE CIRCUMSTANCES WHICH LED TO THE DEATH OF WILLIAM GERVASE. MY OLD FRIEND GERVASE AS HE NOW IS.

"Leaves have their time to fall;

And flowers to wither at the north wind's breath;
And stars to set; but all—

Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O Death!

"Day is for mortal care;

Eve for glad tidings round the joyous hearth;

Night for the dreams of sleep, the voice of prayer;

But all for thee, thou mightiest of the earth.

"The banquet hath its hour,

Its feverish hour of mirth, and song, and wine;
There comes a day for grief's o'erwhelming power,
A time for softer tears, but all are thine.

"Youth and the opening rose

May look like things too glorious for decay,

And smile at thee,- but thou art not of those
That wait the ripen'd bloom to seize their prey.

"Leaves have their time to fall,

And flowers to wither at the north wind's breath;

And stars to set; but all

Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O Death!"- HEMANS.

"AND so the sun-like face of my old friend Gervase has at length a dark cloud passing over it. I have seen him smile at the caprices of fortune; I have seen him laugh at the shafts of malice aimed at his heart; yet, after all, he is not proof against sorrow. But who would not grieve for the loss of a son, of an only son, albeit, that

son had been ungrateful? My heart partakes of his sorrows."

It was thus that I communed with myself on laying down this letter, which was sent me by my aged and highly esteemed friend, Gervase:

"My dear Friend,

"I rose this morning with the lark, and I believe I was as gay and as happy as that heavensoaring bird! But, ah! how altered are my feelings now: a letter brought by this post has cast me into the furnace of affliction. The handwriting of the superscription was that of a stranger to me, and as I opened it I wondered from whom it came. I wondered the more, because the post-mark was foreign. Oh! I would that the letter had never reached me, for it brought the only intelligence that in this life could have rendered me unhappy. It relates the death of your old companion, William, my only son. My heart bleeds for his loss. He has been suddenly cut off in the prime of youth; and, what is most painful to my feelings, in carrying out plans which were adverse to my wishes. I had given him such an education as would have fitted him for any honourable situation at home; but, no; England was not large enough for him to roam about in-he must have a wider field; that of the world. And now, my dear friend, he lies in the cold and narrow grave: he is buried in the land of strangers. If you have any regard for an old man, come over and condole with me: you may soothe the anguish of, though you can never heal the wounds made by this event in my

heart. It will bring down my grey hairs with sorrow to the grave.

"Your affectionate, but sorrowing friend, "H. GERVASE."

I lost no time in visiting my dear old friend, and I endeavoured to pour the balm of consolation into his wounded heart; but his sorrows were such as time only could alleviate, and such as even time could not obliterate. Many a time, indeed, has my old friend, since the day that I received this letter, shed tears in my presence for the loss of his beloved son, William. And his deepest pang is still derived from the remembrance that he was an ungrateful son. "Had he but died in the path of duty," he one day observed to me, "I believe I could have been happy; I believe I could have smiled even through my tears; but the remembrance of his death, under such circumstances as he died, cuts me to the heart. I seem to have no room for joy left in that heart which was once all joy: grief fills it in every part. And yet I know that I should not sorrow as those without hope. But it is hard to practise what I know. My dear friend, I am not the philosopher you once thought me. I own I could smile at the loss of more than half my substance; but that was a very different thing to the loss of a beloved and only son: Diogenes himself could not have borne up against this; he must have wept as I weep, and have mourned as I mourn."

My old friend Gervase came to reside near my parents shortly after I left school. He had

vase.

long been a merchant, and he came to live a life of retirement in the country: casting anxiety, as he said, to the winds. He was of a very cheerful disposition, and nothing seemed to disturb his equanimity of temper. It was a perfect pleasure to visit Lee Cottage, where he resided: he was every thing that could be wished as a host and as a friend. To me the pleasure was greater, because his son William was about my own age, and because he was a very cheerful and intelligent companion. I never had a more agreeable friend in my youth, indeed, than William GerHis education was of a superior order, and he had improved his mind greatly by reading. Touch upon any subject I pleased, or quote whatever author I might, William Gervase was at home with me. As for recitation, renowned as I had been at Mr. White's school in this particular, I believe William was my equal, if he did not in reality eclipse me. This endeared him to my heart. At the same time I felt that I could not make William Gervase a bosom companion. There was something about him which I could not exactly understand, and where the true character of a companion is not clearly seen, it is better to stand somewhat aloof from him: that is, it is better not to trust him as a friend. No, no, my young readers; though by taking particular notice of the eyes and gestures we may, in a short time, distinguish the disposition of a person, if he be not on his guard, yet as many put on a disguise when an acquaintance is formed, it is not easy to discover whether a man is fit for a friend or not. To find out this, we