unvaried routine. He, who had appointed me for a life of wandering, gave me a disposition which relucted at the constant recurrence of the same scene; I ventured to pass one evening abroad: another, and another succeeded. I was severely reflected upon, and I felt it keenly; conscious of meriting reproach, I was the more deeply wounded. I had been recently conversant with a young preacher from England; my imagination was fired; the world could not have longer detained me; I condemned myself for wasting so much time; my heart, my soul was in England, in London. Let the world bestow its censures, London was the place, it contained every thing delightful; I was on tiptoe to be gone; if I was not approved by the family, so much the better, there would be less ingratitude in quitting it. My dear maternal friend once more sought, and obtained a private interview; this I wished to avoid; she saw my reluctance, and was convinced she should not succeed. She reproached me: this, though painful, I could bear better, than her tenderness. "Then you will leave us," said the dear lady. I am determined. "You will repent it, sir; you will return with sorrow, and with shame; when, possibly, you may not find these hospitable doors open to receive you." Never, never, I will die first. She paused, she raised her hands to heaven, she looked: merciful God, I see her now before me: the impression of her varying countenance was unutterable; tears coursed each other down her pallid cheeks. Pausing for a few moments, she said: "Poor, unhappy youth, you know not what you are about, where you are going, and what you are doomed to suffer. Here, then, ends all my pleasing prospects; now indeed I have lost my sons; poor Anna, she has now, in truth, no brother. Go, unhappy youth, go, the sooner you depart, the better; I do not wish to see you again." She left me, nor will I attempt a description of my sensations. I retired to my chamber, my chamber now no more; I wept, I audibly sobbed. In imagination I beheld the beloved friend, by whom it was once occupied; he seemed to upbraid me for my conduct; how torturing were the pangs I suffered. Upon the evening of this sad day, my cherub friend entered the chamber, and for the last time, during my abode therein; pretty soul, she threw her arms around my neck, my face was wet with her tears; she told me, that her sister was very, very sad! On what occasion, my love? "Why, papa is very, very angry with you: and she says, you are going away to-morrow, she knows not where, and that she shall never see you again; and she walks about her chamber, and wrings her hands,
