restless thoughts into their minds. Yet was he not an unreasoning man, one who acquiesced in his lot through mere mental imbecility. There was a certain substratum of good sense in his character that enabled him to observe and argue soundly upen things. I remember hearing, when a boy, his just remarks upon the necessity and propriety of there being different ranks and degrees in the social system. These observations may have been uttered in homely enough language, but the good sense that dictated them, made a strong impression on my youthful mind, which had then a great tendency to contrary opinions. Many other remarks of my father's proved his understanding to be one of much native strength; and though I never loved him with the extreme tenderness I did my mother, yet my affection for him was blended with respect.

As to my last-named parent, I cannot dismiss her with so brief a notice; her nature was cast in a very different mould from that of her husband. It was too exalted and refined for her lot in life. My mother was a creature of feeling and imagination, one who, if moving in a different sphere of society, would have been thought a beauty and a genius: she

possessed a mind of superior powers; and whatever share of ability or talent I may lay claim to, descended evidently from her. How frequently do sons bear more mental resemblance to their female than their male parent, as Buffon testifies when he says, les races se feminisent.

My mother had been, before her marriage, an upper servant in the family of a gentleman in the neighbourhood, and had raised herself through the mere force of superior intelligence, from one of the lowest to the very highest post in the house-that of confidential domestic to the lady. In this—to her-exalted situation, she was subjected to the addresses of a man calling himself a gentleman, a relative of the family's, and who had constant access to the house. He went through the routine of deceit usual in such cases; at first, veiling his base purposes under the mask of respectful love, thereby gaining the affections and confidence of a woman immeasurably his superior in all but adventitious advantages. My poor mother was for a time beguiled by the idea that she would be honourably raised to a station of life, she felt she had a capacity becomingly to fill; visions of hope and refined hap

piness visited her day-dreams; and existence, for a while, wore an air of new enchantment. Terrible, at length, was her awakening from the illusion; heavy was the blow dealt to her woman's pride-to her woman's tenderness! and when she thoroughly understood the real designs of the heartless being who had thus deceived and insulted her, her lofty spirit, stung to the quick by the sense of meditated injury and degradation, made her abruptly quit her situation, and, with it, all hopes of worldly advancement, rather than be again subject to his now hateful presence; her previous love seemed completely absorbed by her virtuous indignation.

My father had long secretly admired, but despaired of ever obtaining the hand of so superior a person as he justly regarded my mother; but now was a favourable moment to press his suit, to offer his honest, his respectful affection; and this he did with so much real delicacy of feeling, that, humbled and crushed as she was by the recent blow, the contrast of the different conduct of her great, and her lowly lover, made so favourable an impression for the latter, that she consented to become his wife, "could he be contented," as she told him,

"with a seared and drooping heart." Although not able to enter into all the refinements of my mother's character, yet he had discrimination enough to appreciate her superiority, and to respect her dejection.

After a few months they were married. His little cottage was put in order; and, with the savings of some years (for my father was between thirty and forty) he procured for his bride many articles of comfort, that for a working man, in those days, were esteemed almost luxuries. I need scarcely say here, that all these particulars were told me by my mother when I was old enough to enter into her confidence and sentiments. Never, perhaps, did more tender, intimate, and complete communion exist between mother and son, than was enjoyed in our case. She bore me no common love; it was a deep, idolizing, concentrated affection, such as but few hearts are capable of entertaining. But I anticipate too much.

My parents went on as contentedly and smoothly in their humble way, as the most favourably matched usually do. The happiness of my father was unalloyed; as much could not be said in my mother's

case: her nature being more sensitive and refined, and her taste for a superior style of living and thinking, having been excited by what she had witnessed in the family in which she had lived, though but in a subordinate situation. These, and similar causes, had rendered her, perhaps, in a degree, unfit for the homely enjoyment of a poor man's fire-side. I say unfitted her for the enjoyment of her lot, not for fulfilling its duties; she was much too right-minded a person, to give way to wrong and useless repining. Her highest aspirations having been checked on earth, ascended to heaven: she prayed for strength to fulfil her duties; cheerfully to endure her destiny, to make the most of its alleviations. Her husband's comfort and happiness were studied in the slightest minutiae; he was generally welcomed from his toil with smiles, often called up for the occasion. The only thing that ever apparently dejected her, was the want of offspring -for I was not born till the fifth year of her marriage she passionately yearned for a child, to love; for a being, on whom she could bestow the whole energy of her deep affections. At length her prayers were heard. Ah! why do we ever pray for