side of his skull was carried away: he fell on the road insensible; medical aid was instantly procured, and he was placed in bed, but without the least hope of recovery.'

This letter led me to visit the young gentleman and his friends; and, from successive conversations, I obtained the particulars which form the following narrative; added to which I preached a serinon on the occasion of his providential deliverance, at the desire of the young man, at the parish churches of St. James's, Clerkenwell, and St. Antholin, Watling Street, which I committed to the press with the hope, under the blessing of God, of conveying to young people some very important and useful warnings and admonitions.

George Furneaux was the third son of Mr. L. Furneaux, a respectable watch-manufacturer in Clerkenwell. He was generally considered an active, sprightly, industrious youth; and at length commenced business for himself in the watch trade, with fair prospects and an extending connexion. Removed too much from parental observation, and having become, in some measure, the master of his own conduct, he was betrayed into the snare which captivates so many of our youth-he became connected with improper companions. He was thus led into habits of dissipation and expense; his busi

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ness was neglected; and much of his time was wasted at coffee-houses, taverns, and places of frivolous entertainments and seductive amusements. His affairs, through these causes, became somewhat deranged; he could not meet his payments with regularity; and his business, through his neglect, declined:

With virtue prudence fled-what he possess'd
Was sold, was spent, and he was now distress'd:
His pride felt keenly what he must expect
From useless pity and from cold neglect.'

Such dissipation and neglect at so early a period appears somewhat strange; and generally, when we witness comic and tragic scenes so uncommon as were displayed in this young man, there is some machinery behind the curtain which puts the whole in motion the further I have investigated the causes, the more I have been surprised.

But further light has been thrown upon the subject by more minute and particular inquiries of him. He assured me that the original cause was a strong attachment to a worthy young woman, in which he was crossed and opposed. He feared the separationwould be final, though his attachment remained the same. Purely to revenge himself for a disappointment in an object on which he had so set his heart, and in which he was persuaded his happiness for

life was involved, he commenced a system of wicked and desperate revenge to mortify and vex those who had broken off the connexion. The young woman for whom it was thought he had committed this rash act was not the real object of his affections; he disapproved of her character, and had the banns put up out of spite. If I had married her,' he said, 'which was a doubtful case, I should have considered myself as sealing my own misery, and should still have committed the dreadful deed.' He added, 'It is a proof that these are my real sentiments, because, now, like the prodigal, I have come to myself, I have abandoned her for ever.' This explanation may serve to unravel some of the mysteries otherwise involved in the surprising occurrences which form his dreadful tale. Whatever be the real state of the case-from whatever causes, whether this mere remote attachment, or the opposition he now met with certain it was that a strong excitement of passion was the consequence-that his mind was sometimes sunk in gloomy despondence, at other times roused to desperate schemes of violence. The opposition made to his headstrong will, together with disappointments, losses, and failures, owing to his extravagant, wild, and thoughtless conduct, increased by bad company, so harassed a youth of his unreflecting age and habits, as to agitate his mind till it lost its balance, and fell under

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the pressure of his real and fancied troubles. For nearly a week previous to his attempted suicide his mind was the prey of gloomy reflections and desperate resolves:

'Oh, had he pray'd to an offended God,
His tears had flown a penitential flood!
Tho' far astray, he would have heard the call
Of Mercy-" Come, return, thou prodigal!"
Then, tho' confus'd, distress'd, asham'd, afraid,
Still, had the trembling penitent obey'd,
Tho' Faith had fainted when assail'd by Fear,
Hope, better Hope, had whisper'd "Persevere !"
But all this joy was to the youth denied
By his fierce passions and his daring pride;
And shame and doubt impell'd him in a course,
Once so abhorr'd, with unresisted force.
Proud minds and guilty, whom their crimes oppress,
Fly to new crimes for comfort and redress:

So found our fallen youth a short relief

In wine, the opiate Guilt applies to Grief-
From fleeting mirth, that o'er the bottle lives-
From the false joy its inspiration gives-
And from associates pleas'd to find a friend
With pow'rs to lead them, gladden, and defend.
In all those scenes what transient ease is found
For minds whom sins oppress and sorrows wound!'
CRABBE'S TALLS.

How foolish, rash, and Headstrong, he now considers his conduct! how wicked this attempted suicide! He shall speak for himself on his own character; on the state of mind which gradually beguiled him to this atrocity; on the circumstances attending it;

on the salutary effects produced upon his own heart by reflections on his sin, and the goodness of God in his preservation; and on the course of life which he has now marked out for himself. The following narrative is in substance what I received from his own lips, and therefore may be perused with confidence. It was communicated to me partly by letter, in which he solicited me to preach a sermon as an admonition to others; and in several subsequent conversations with him and his friends, of all which I took notes. Instead, therefore, of the tedious repetition of the first and second person, I shall put the whole into his own mouth, taking the liberty of strengthening his observations with some of my own as I proceed.

'I now see my sin,' said he, 'in all its dark and dismal colours. It is true I was vexed by losses, opposed and discountenanced by my friends; but, instead of desperate resolves, I should have laid the blame of my troubles on my own misconduct, submitted to them with resignation, humbled myself before God, reformed my conduct, exerted my energies, trusted in the blessing of Providence on my future exertions, and listened to the good advice of my parents, who, I am now persuaded, were my best friends and advisers. But, instead of this, I was proud, conceited, obstinate, and self-sufficient: I was vexed at