actually seemed themselves to be infected with your fanaticism, and attempted to defend it. Poor Harley himself spoke of you with a gravity very unusual to him. Ah! Conway!' he said to me, 'we may all tremble now at the approach of sickness. It has subdued the strongest mind, and the noblest spirit amongst us.'

How. (Thoughtfully.) Terrified into fanaticism! So that is what is said of me, and it is to that supposition, then, that I perhaps owe those looks of contempt, which from some quarters I find it so ill to bear. Well, adieu to pride of character, at least. But go on, Conway.

Con. Why should I go on? I only pain you.

How. No, no,-go on. I wish to hear all; and you have promised, Conway."

1

Con. Well, dear Howard, I heard

many such reports about you; some ra

At one

ther inconsistent with others. time I was informed by an English gentleman, who, however, allowed that he was not personally acquainted with you, that you had changed your party in politics, and now constantly opposed ministers. I was soon after told, by our old acquaintance, Colonel Grey, that your new opinions gave you considerable influence with some men, with whom your superior talents never would have given you any; but that, joined to such opinions, they were rejoiced to avail themselves of those talents; and that you, therefore, were known to carry a considerable number of votes, which ministers could always count upon. I need not repeat those contradictory reports respecting your public character, all of which, however, agreed in the one point, that you were altogether changed. I heard almost as many reports regarding your private conduct. I was told, that you yourself prayed extempore in your

1

family,-that you heard fanatical preachers, that you received no visits on Sunday, nor would listen on that day to one word on business, however important,-and, my dear Howard, that your family were treated with severity by you, at least Charles, though to the death of poor Arthur I had heard partly ascribed the unaccountable change in your cha

racter.

How. Why, Conway, did you not apply to myself for an explanation of all those contradictions?

Con. Because, my dear Howard, I could not conceal from myself that the strain of your letters was really changed. I tried to make myself believe, that the reports I had heard perhaps influenced me while I read, but it was impossible to convince myself of this. Your letters are changed, Howard, in their whole character; and I confess, without further reserve, that you are right in your supposition. I have returned to Eng

land, the first time I could feel at sufficient ease about Maria to leave her, for no other purpose than to see and judge for myself, whether I was so unaccountably deceived, or whether you were really changed, and now I am almost at as great a loss as ever, for I see no change. -Yet, somehow

How. (Smiling.) Somehow I am not the same.

Con. I know not how it is, but

How. Do not puzzle yourself, my dear Conway, to discover what it is about me that leads you to believe, you can scarcely tell why, that I am changed, that I am not exactly what I was when we last met.

The truth is, Con

You shall know

way, that I am not. all respecting this change, that I myself know. It is not only in my opinions, it is infinitely more in my feelings; and in both, most particularly so with regard to the Supreme Being, and the relation which man bears to him. How often

have you

and I, dear Conway, compared our opinions and feelings on those most important subjects. When we last met, we were nearly of the same mind regarding them. With what composure have we at times traced the character of the God of our conceptions, after having admired the wonderful order of his heavens, and the exalted sublimity, and touching beauty of the works of nature.

Con. Yes, Howard; and why not with composure? Is not a calm and rational state of mind the most suitable, when attempting to conceive or to trace the character of the Supreme Being ?

How. Yes, Conway. Certainly we ought to trace the attributes' of that Being from whom we received existence, and with whom we expect to pass eternity, with every power of our souls deeply and solemnly engaged, and as free as possible from all distraction. But what I wished to recall to your remem brance, was the remark we so often made,