my losses, goaded by the just reproof of my friends, determined to have my own way, and listened to a set of bad advisers, who I now plainly perceive had their own ends in view instead of my benefit. God therefore suffered me to punish myself, by going on frowardly in the way of my heart. It was evident that no principle of morality or religion at this time swayed my heart, for I seemed "neither to fear God nor regard man!" Satan was permitted to have power over me, and to agitate my shattered powers, which were left open, like a musical instrument, to the touch of an evil finger:

Man is a harp whose chords elude the sight-
Each yielding harmony, dispos'd aright;
The screws revers'd (a task which, if He please,
God in a moment executes with case),

Ten thousand thousand strings at once go loose-
Lost, till He turn them, all their power and use.

No wounds like those a wounded spirit feels;

No cure for such till God, who makes them, heals." And dreadfully the tempter improved his advantage, as he ever will "if we give place to the devil.” Let every one "resist the devil, and he will flee from him;" but, if we yield to his devices, we may be "taken captive by him at his will," and ruined for ever! For some days I had prepared pistols and made bullets; there seemed in my mind scarcely any definite object; but I brooded over some sullen

resolve to make use of them if OCCASION should serve. · Dreadful project! Rely upon it the devil will be sure to bring before you an occasion for the perpetration of meditated crime: your own evil heart will suggest a reason, or your impetuous passions will rouse you to the deed; and, perhaps, in three minutes, as in my case, you may seize an opportunity to commit it. If ever you prepare the means of wickedness, and get ready the instruments of death, you are undone ! I shall never forget the mental perturbation I experienced, and the more than earthly prompting which I felt, while I was deliberately preparing for the atrocious crime. While others observed me without emotion, I seemed "to hear a voice they did not hear," whispering to me, in urgent accents, "Do it-do it-do it!" There are very few persons, I believe, who have been prompted to deeds so dreadful, but have been driven on in a similar way by the devil! I seemed to be surrounded with an evil influence-to have always at my elbow an invisible adviser and an impetuous prompter. However much before this I may have been tempted, in the heat of wine, amongst light companions at the tavern or the bagnio, to laugh at the devil, and pronounce his name in the spirit of infidelity, I was fully convinced of the existence of this evil, tempting, lying,

deceiving, and persuading spirit, during this dread period. I felt myself under his immediate agency! "As perilous rocks lie in the sleeping seas

Unknown, and make no discord with the waves
Till these are blown against them with vexation;
So, then, are secrets in men's hearts as hid,
In th' hour of peace, as if they had no being,

And but speak out when passions rise in tempest."

'Soon after this the confusion of my mind was such that I think I was under a temporary derangement of my faculties. I do not mention this, however, with a view to excuse my guilt. I believe, in just judgment, God punished my obstinacy and sin by suffering worldly trouble and a wicked spirit of revenge to upset me-" The sorrow of the world worketh death." He allowed Satan to buffet, harass, prompt, deceive, and drive me on to the very edge of perdition, from which his hand and his mighty arm of mercy alone delivered me. In the extravagance of my mental agitation I purchased a new DIRK; and, a few days afterwards, under the impression of some opposite feeling, I went and buried the dirk, together with seven sovereigns, in the fields beyond White Conduit House. The waiter at this tavern has since told me that I came in with my coat off, and my arms covered with earth and dirt up to my elbows-a proof that I had dug the hole which I made the depository of

my dirk, like a dog, with my own hands. I have no recollection of the spot where lie buried in the ground these melancholy proofs of my guilty insanity; bat I recollect I walked out in the morning, and the cheerful appearance of the new-born day had a soothing effect on my mind:

"The storm is bush'd; the turmoil'd el'ments slumber; And the fierce gale, which rock'd these battlements,

Is lull'd and motionless. Meek Nature now,

Her fitful passion o'er, sleeps like an infant,

A playful smile bedewing its moist lips

As its eye sinks in stillness. There is pleasure

In the calm aspect of the firmament,

E'en when the mind is frenzied. The genuine wretch, 'Midst hideous shapes that haunt his fever'd couch, Blesses the day-breeze, and the soothing light

That beams from the blue Heav'n. How slow the breath: Of the mild evening! It steals over me

With thoughts that have been long foregone. O Nature, Parent of our best joys, how have I scar'd thee!

Thro' what terrific mazes has the fiend

Led my despairing steps!"

'At another time I went to Islington, and called on my sister the family were sat down at the teatable, and I was about to take some tea with them. My two brothers came in: they began to look at me and ask me questions. I suspected, by their manner, that they entertained apprehensions respecting me. Instantly I conceived that they were all forming a league against me, and intended to put me in a prison or a mad-house: this so roused my

indignation, that, instead of answering their questions, I literally gnashed my teeth at them, burst forth from the house, and hastened away, with the intention of going to White Conduit House.

My friends had become alarmed respecting my conduct, having observed me handling a pistol, and manifesting other extravagances.

'My mother earnestly requested my brother to look to me; and, as I expressed my determination to take a journey into the country, she begged him to accompany me.

"She mark'd my desultory pace,

My gestures strange, and varying face,
With many a smother'd sound;

And ah! too late, aghast she view'd

The fatal ball-the hand imbrued:

I fell, and, groaning, grasp'd in agony the ground.

"Full many a melancholy night

I watch'd the slow return of light,

And 'sought the powr's of sleep

To spread a momentary calm

O'er my sad couch, and in the balm

Of bland Oblivion's dews my burning eyes to steep.

"Beck'ning me forth to torments new,

Revenge, for ever in my view,

A spectre pale, appear'd;

While, as the shades of eve arose,

And brought the day's unwelcome close,

More terrible and huge her giant shape she rear’d.”*

* Wharton on Suicide.