bled to acquire those qualities of the mind which he so much desired me to possess. I have often heard my mother object to his intentions in this respect. "Let us not leave our own rank," said she to my father; "why should we introduce Edward into a world where he cannot always live, and a knowledge of which will, perhaps, disgust him with the obscurity of our own peaceful circle?"—" A lawyer," said my father, "ought to have studied all ranks: it is necessary for him to be, at an early period of life, accustomed to the elegance of people of the first rank, that he may not be dazzled by it. Purity of language, and the graces of ease, can be acquired only by intercourse with the world. Good society gives a knowledge of propriety, and imparts that niceness of taste and of discrimination, the want of which is considered unpardonable, although it can never be learned by precept."—"What you say is true," answered my mother; "but I confess I would rather that Edward should be ignorant of all that, and remain happy; we cannot be happy, when we do not associate with our equals;

Among unequals no society

Can sort,'

"Your quotation is true," replied my father, "but the poet alludes only to moral equality; and on this point I am of his opinion, which is perfectly consistent with my own."-" Undoubtedly;" replied my mother, "but the Maréchal d'Olonne is an exception. Let us respect the fitness of social relations; let us even pay the just tribute of admiration to the hierarchy of ranks it is respectable, and not without utility; besides, do we not hold our place in it? Let us preserve that place; we cannot leave it without risking our happiness." These conversations were often renewed; and I confess that the desire of novelty, and a secret restlessness of mind, for which I could assign no cause, inclined me to my father's opinion, and made me ardently wish to be twenty years old, that I might go to Paris, and see the Maréchal d'Olonne.

I will pass over in silence the two years which elapsed before that period arrived. My whole time was occupied in serious pursuits; the study of the law, mathematics, and of lan

D

guages, employed every hour of the day. This dry application, however, which might have been supposed to give some stability to my mind, left unchanged the character which nature had given me, and which I shall, undoubtedly, retain till death.

At twenty years of age I expected a great happiness, and Providence inflicted upon me the greatest of misfortunes ;-I lost my mother. When we were on the point of setting out for Paris, she fell ill, and her malady was succeeded by a state of languor which continued during six months. She expired, without pain, in my arms; endeavouring, with her latest breath, to console me for her loss. God had compassion on her, and on me: he spared her the grief of seeing me wretched, and me that of being a source of anguish to her. She never saw me fall into the snare her good. sense had enabled her to foresee, and from which she had in vain attempted to save me. Alas! can I say with truth that I now regret the peace I have lost: or, that I have any value for the tranquil existence my mother hoped to see me enjoy? Certainly not. I can never

be happy again: but the grief which I cherish at the bottom of my heart is dearer to me than all the common joys of this world. It will constitute my glory to the latest hour of my existence, as the cause of it was the source of all the happiness of my youth. At twentythree years of age I take delight only in the remembrance of the past. This is of little importance; my career is already at an end; futurity can have no blessing in store for me.

In the first access of his grief, my father gave up his journey to Paris. We went to Forez, in the hope of dissipating our grief, but were there continually pursued by the image of her whom we deplored. How cruel is the eternal separation of death! We felt a void in our hearts, even when we fancied we had for a moment banished the recollection of the loss we had sustained. I was now left constantly alone with my father, and our conversations became, comparatively, cold and constrained. My mother's gentleness had always prevented the jarring naturally arising from the opposition between my father's decision of character, and my disposition to pen

siveness; she might be compared to the intermediate tint, which blends two strongly contrasted colours. Now that she was gone, my father and I perceived, for the first time, that we had distinct interests, and that we sometimes differed in opinion.

He

In the month of November we set out for Paris. My father took up his residence at the house of M. d'Herbelot, my mother's brother, who was a rich farmer-general. had a fine house in the Chaussée d'Antin, where he received us most splendidly. He gave us great dinners, took me to all the places of public entertainment, and showed me all the curiosities of Paris. But the pleasure I most desired was to be introduced to M. le Maréchal d'Olonne, who was then at Fontainbleau, whence he was not expected to return in less than a fortnight. My uncle insisted upon my being constantly engaged; and the time passed in a continual round of amusements. Parties and excursions of all sorts, plays, concerts, Géliot, and Mademoiselle d'Arnould successively took their turn. I was already weary of Paris, when my father