us, and to the smallest knowledge of which the highest human wit unassisted could never ascend.

I had spent about four years in the most delightful manner to myself, totally given up to contemplation, and entirely unembarrassed with the affairs of the world, when I lost the best of fathers, and one whom I so entirely loved, that my grief at his loss exceeds all description. I now abandoned my books, and gave myself up for a whole month to the efforts of melancholy and despair. Time, however, the best physician of the mind, at length brought me relief. I then betook myself again to my former studies, which I may say perfected my cure: for philosophy and religion may be called the exercises of the mind, and, when this is disordered, they are as wholesome as exercise can be to a distempered body. They do indeed produce similar effects with exercise: for they strengthen and confirm the mind; till man becomes, in the noble strain of Horace,

Fortis et in se ipso totus teres atque rotundus,

Externi ne quid valeat per læve morari: In quem manca ruit semper Fortuna.

My circumstances were now greatly altered by the death of that best of men: for my brother, who was now become master of the house, differed so widely from me in his inclinations, and our pursuits in life had been so very various, that we were the worst of company to each other; but what made our living together still more disagreeable, was the little harmony which could subsist between the few who resorted to me, and the numerous train of sportsmen who often attended my brother from the field to the table: for such fellows, besides the noise and nonsense with which they persecute the ears of sober men, endeavour always to attack them with affront and contempt. This was so much the case, that neither I myself, nor my friends, could ever sit down to a meal with them, without being treated with derision, because we were unacquainted with the phrases of sportsmen. For

men of true learning, and almost universal knowledge, always compassionate the ignorance of others; but fellows who excel in some little, low, contemptible art, are always certain to despise those who are unacquainted with that art.

In short, we soon separated, and I went by the advice of a physician to drink the Bath waters: for my violent affliction, added to a sedentary life, had thrown me into a kind of paralytic disorder, for which those waters are accounted an almost certain cure. The second day after my arrival, as I was walking by the river, the sun shone so intensely hot, (though it was early in the year) that I retired to the shelter of some willows, and sat down by the river-side. Here I had not been seated long before I heard a person on the other side of the willows, sighing and bemoaning himself bitterly. On a sudden, having uttered a most impious oath, he cried: 'I am resolved to bear it no longer,' and directly threw himself into the water. I immediately started, and ran towards the place, calling at the same time as loudly as I could for assistance. An angler happened luckily to be a-fishing a little below me, though some very high hedge had hid him from my sight. He immediately came up, and both of us together, not without some hasard of our lives, drew the body to the shore. At first we perceived no sign of life remaining; but having held the body up by the heels, (for we soon had assistance enough) it discharged a vast quantity of water at the mouth, and at length began to discover some symptoms of breathing, and a little afterwards to move both its hands and its legs.

An apothecary, who happened to be present among others, advised that the body, which seemed now to have pretty well emptied itself of water, and which began to have many convulsive motions, should be directly taken up, and carried into a warm bed. This was accordingly performed, the apothecary and myself attending.

As we were going towards an inn,

for we knew not the man's lodgings, luckily a woman met us, who after some violent screamings, told us, that the gentleman lodged at her house.

When I had seen the man safely deposited there, I left him to the care of the apothecary, who, I suppose, used all the right methods with him; for the next morning I heard he had perfectly recovered his senses.

I then went to visit him, intending to search out, as well as I could, the cause of his having attempted so desperate an act, and to prevent, as far as I was able, his pursuing such wicked intentions for the future. I was no sooner admitted into his chamber, than we both instantly knew each other; for who should this person be but my good friend, Mr. Watson! Here I will not trouble you with what passed at our first interview; for I would avoid prolixity as much as possible.

Mr. Watson very freely acquainted me, that the unhappy situation of his circumstances, occasioned by a tide of ill luck, had in a manner forced him to a resolution of destroying himself.

I now began to argue very seriously with him, in opposition to this heathenish, or indeed diabolical principle of the lawfulness of self-murder; and said every thing which occurred to me on the subject; but, to my great concern, it seemed to have very little effect on him. He seemed not at all to repent of what he had done, and gave me reason to fear, he would soon make a second attempt of the like horrible kind.

When I had finished my discourse, instead of endeavouring to answer my arguments, he looked me steadfastly in the face, and with a smile said: You are strangely altered, my good friend, since I remember you. I question whether any of our bishops could make a better argument against suicide than you have entertained me with; but unless you can find somebody who will lend me a cool hundred, I must either hang, or drown, or starve; and in my opinion the last death is the most terrible of the three.'

I answered him very gravely, that I was indeed altered since I had seen him last; that I had found leisure to look into my follies, and to repent of them. I then advised him to pursue the same steps; and at last concluded with an assurance, that I myself would lend him a hundred pounds, if it would be of any service to his affairs, and he would not put it into the power of a die to deprive him of it.

Mr. Watson, who seemed almost composed in slumber by the former part of my discourse, was roused by the latter. He seized my hand eagerly, gave me a thousand thanks, and declared I was a friend indeed; adding that he hoped I had a better opinion of him, than to imagine he had profited so little by experience, as to put any confidence in those damned dice, which had so often deceived him. 'No, no,' cries he, 'let me but once handsomely be set up again, and if ever fortune makes a broken merchant of me afterwards, I will forgive her.'

I very well understood the language of setting up, and broken merchant. I therefore said to him with a very grave face: 'Mr. Watson, you must endeavour to find out some business, or employment, by which you may procure yourself a livelihood: and I promise you, could I see any probability of being repaid hereafter, I would advance a much larger sum than what you have mentioned, to equip you in any fair and honourable calling; but, as to gaming, besides the baseness and wickedness of making it a profession, you are really, to my own knowledge, unfit for it, and it will end in your certain ruin.'

'Why now, that's strange,' answered he, 'neither you, nor any of my friends, would ever allow me to know any thing of the matter, and yet, I believe, I am as good a hand at every game as any of you all; and I heartily wish I was to play with you only for your whole fortune; I should desire no better sport, and I would let you name your game into the bargain: but come, my dear boy, have you the hundred in your pocket?'

I answered I had only a bill for L. 50, which I delivered him, and promised to bring him the rest next morning; and, after giving him a little more advice, took my leave.

I was indeed better than my word: for I returned to him that very afternoon. When I entered the room, I found him sitting up in his bed at cards with a notorious gamester. This sight, you will imagine, shocked me not a little; to which I may add the mortification of seeing my bill delivered by him to his antagonist, and thirty guineas only given in exchange for it. The other gamester presently quitted the room, and then Watson declared he was ashamed to see me: 'but,' says he, 'I find luck runs so damnably against me, that I will resolve to leave off play for ever. I have thought of the kind proposal you made me ever since, and I promise you there shall be no fault in me, if I do not put it in execution.'

Though I had no great faith in his promises, I produced him the remainder of the hundred in consequence of my own; for which he gave me a note, which was all I ever expected to see in return for my money.

We were prevented from any further discourse at present, by the arrival of the apothecary, who, with much joy in his countenance, and without even asking his patient how he did, proclaimed there was great news arrived in a letter to himself, which he said would shortly be public: 'that the Duke of Monmouth was landed in the west with a vast army of Dutch: and that another vast fleet hovered over the coast of Norfolk, and was to make a descent there, in order to favour the Duke's enterprise with a diversion on that side.'

This apothecary was one of the greatest politicians of his time. He was more delighted with the most paltry packet, than with the best patient; and the highest joy he was capable of, he received from having a piece of news in his possession an hour or two sooner than any other person in the town. His advices, however, were sel

dom authentic, for he would swallow almost any thing as a truth, a humour which many made use of to impose upon him.

Thus it happened with what he at present communicated; for it was known within a short time afterwards, that the Duke was really landed; but that his army consisted only of a few attendants; and as to the diversion in Norfolk, it was entirely false.

The apothecary stayed no longer in the room than while he acquainted us with his news; and then, without saying a syllable to his patient on any other subject, departed to spread his advices all over the town.

There was a considerable rising in favour of Monmouth; and, my principles strongly inclining me to take the same part, I determined to join him; and Mr. Watson, from different motives concurring in the same resolution, we soon provided ourselves with all necessaries, and went to the Duke at Bridgewater.

The unfortunate event of this enterprise you are as well acquainted with as myself. I escaped, together with Mr. Watson, from the battle at Sedgemore, in which action I received a slight wound. We rode near forty miles together on the Exeter road, and, then abandoning our horses, scrambled as well as we could through the fields and by-roads, till we arrived at a little wild hut on a common, where a poor old woman took all the care of us she could, and dressed my wound with salve, which quickly healed it.

Here Mr. Watson left me the next morning, in order, as he pretended, to get us some provision from the town of Cullumpton-but- can I relate it? or can you believe it?-This Mr. Watson, this friend, this base, barbarous, treacherous villain, betrayed me to a party of horse belonging to King James, and, at his return, delivered me into their hands.

The soldiers, being six in number, had now seized me, and were conducting me to Taunton gaol: but neither my present situation, nor the appre

hensions of what might happen to me, were half so irksome to my mind, as the company of my false friend, who, having surrendered himself, was likewise considered as a prisoner, though he was better treated, as being to make his peace at my expense. He at first endeavoured to excuse his treachery; but when he received nothing but scorn and upbraiding from me, he soon changed his note, abused me as the most atrocious and malicious rebel, and laid all his own guilt to my charge, who, as he declared, had solicited, and even threatened him, to make him take up arms against his gracious, as well as lawful sovereign.

This false evidence, (for in reality, he had been much the forwarder of the two), stung me to the quick, and raised an indignation scarce conceivable by those who have not felt it. However, fortune at length took pity on me: for as we were got a little beyond Wellington, in a narrow lane, my guards received a false alarm, that near fifty of the enemy were at hand, upon which they shifted for themselves, and left me and my betrayer to do the same. That villain immediately ran from me, and I am glad he did, or I should have certainly endeavoured, though I had no arms, to have executed vengeance on his baseness.

I was now once more at liberty, and immediately withdrawing from the highway into the fields, I travelled on,

scarce knowing which way I went, and making it my chief care to avoid all public roads, and all towns, nay, even the most homely houses; for I imagined every human creature whom I saw, desirous of betraying me.

At last, after rambling several days about the country, during which the fields afforded me the same bed, and the same food, which nature bestows on our savage brothers of the creation, I at length arrived at this place, where the solitude and wildness of the country invited me to fix my abode. The first person with whom I took up my habitation, was the mother of this old woman, with whom I remained concealed, till the news of the glorious Revolution put an end to all my apprehensions of danger, and gave me an opportunity of once more visiting my own home, and of enquiring a little into my affairs, which I soon settled as agreeably to my brother as to myself; having resigned every thing to him, for which he paid me the sum of a thousand pounds, and settled on me an annuity for life.

His behaviour in this last instance, as in all others, was selfish and ungenerous. I could not look on him as my friend, nor indeed did he desire that I should; so I presently took my leave of him, as well as of my other acquaintances; and from that day to this, my history is little better than a blank.

LAWRENCE STERNE, one of the most humorous authors England has ever produced, was born at Clonmel in 1713, and educated at Cambridge, where he took the degree of Master of Arts, and then entered the church; but his manner of life not being in accordance with his profession, he was little liked by his brother clergymen. His first publication was entitled "Tristram Shandy, of which two volumes appeared in 1759, two more in 1761, and the two last in 1762. The

THE STORY OF LE FEVER. It was some time in the summer of that year in which Dendermond was taken by the allies, which was about seven years before my father came into

publication of this work instantly placed Sterne among the first writers of his day. Its merit consists in its style, which is easy and at the same time elegant, and in the many humorous and pathetic parts, which illustrate the genius of the author. Sterne travelled twice on the continent, and the publication of his 'Sentimental Journey' was the result of these tours. At the completion of the first part, however, the author died in London, where he was staying to superintend its printing in 1768.

the country, and about as many after the time that my uncle Toby and Trim had privately decamped from my father's house in town, in order to lay some of the finest sieges to some of the finest

fortified cities in Europe;-when my uncle Toby was one evening getting his supper, with Trim sitting behind him at a small sideboard.-The landlord of a little inn in the village came into the parlour with an empty phial in his hand, to beg a glass or two of sack (1).-'Tis for a poor gentleman-I think of the army, said the landlord, who has been taken ill at my house four days ago, and has never held up his head since, or had a desire to taste any thing, till just now, that he has a fancy for a glass of sack and a thin toast-I think, says he, taking his hand from his forehead, it would comfort me.

If I could neither beg, borrow, nor buy such a thing, added the landlord, I would almost steal it for the poor gentleman, he is so ill. I hope in God he will still mend, continued he;-we are all of us concerned for him.

Thou art a good-natured soul, I will answer for thee, cried my uncle Toby; and thou shalt drink the poor gentleman's health in a glass of sack thyself, and take a couple of bottles, with my service, and tell him he is heartily welcome to them, and to a dozen more if they will do him good.

Though I am persuaded, said my uncle Toby, as the landlord shut the door, he is a very compassionate fellow, Trim, yet I cannot help entertaining a high opinion of his guest too; there must be something more than common in him, that in so short a time should win so much upon the affections of his host:-And of his whole family, added the corporal, for they are all concerned for him.-Step after him, said my uncle Toby; do Trim; and ask if he knows his name.

-I have quite forgot it, truly, said the landlord, coming back into the parlour with the corporal;-but I can ask his son again.-Has he a son with him then? said my uncle Toby.-A boy, replied the landlord, of about eleven or twelve years of age; but the poor creature has tasted almost as

(1) Spanish wine (vino seco).

little as his father; he does nothing but mourn and lament for him night and day. He has not stirred from the bed-side these two days.

My uncle Toby laid down his knife and fork, and thrust his plate from before him, as the landlord gave him the account; and Trim, without being ordered, took away, without saying one word, and in a few minutes after brought him his pipe and tobacco.

-Stay in the room a little, said my uncle Toby.

Trim! said my uncle Toby, after he had lighted his pipe, and smoked about a dozen whiffs.-Trim came in front of his master, and made his bow:my uncle Toby smoked on, and said no more.-Corporal! said my uncle Toby.-The corporal made his bow.My uncle Toby proceeded no farther, but finished his pipe.

Trim! said my uncle Toby, I have a project in my head, as it is a bad night, of wrapping myself up warm in my roquelaure (1) and paying a visit to this poor gentleman.-Your honour's roquelaure, replied the corporal, has not once been had on since the night before your honour received your wound, when we mounted guard in the trenches before the gate of St. Nicholas; and besides, it is so cold and rainy a night, that what with the roquelaure, and what with the weather, 'twill be enough to give your honour your death, and bring on your honour's torment in your groin. I fear so, replied my uncle Toby; but I am not at rest in my mind, Trim, since the account the landlord has given me.I wish I had not known so much of this affair,--added my uncle Toby,-or that I had known more of it:How shall we manage it?--Leave it, an't please your honour, to me, quoth the corporal.-I'll take my hat and stick, and go to the house and reconnoitre, and act accordingly; and I will bring your honour a full account in an hour.-Thou shalt go, Trim,

(1) A cloak, introduced by the Duc de Roquelaure.