Unwilling that Delamere should regard me as a prying intruder on his solitary meditations, I would have retired unobserved from the apartment, but ere I could accomplish my design, he turned round, and hastily concealed the portrait in his bosom, while, with some appearance of confusion, he offered me a seat.

"I have been indulging," said he, "in one of those waking dreams which are so frequent with nos autres génies, and really did not hear you come in.”

I assured him, I had only that moment entered, as the best way of removing any suspicion he might entertain of my having overheard his soliloquy; and the appearance of tea, soon after, put a period to the conversation; which he did not seem inclined to renew. The perusal of a favourite author supplied our evening's amusement; for Delamere reads with taste, and the observations he makes are calculated to afford as much pleasure as the work which excites them. Our pre

sent author was Shakespear, in his tragedy of Coriolanus; and there appeared to me a peculiar emphasis in Delamere's manner of delivering the high minded and unbending sentiments of the noble Roman. "I never," said he, as he concluded, "can peruse a composition like this, without feeling elevated above myself; it conveys me, as it were, to another world, and speaks the language of beings very distinct from the degenerated inhabitants of the present age. Coriolanus defying his enemies in his last moments, always recals my boyish wish that I had lived in an era so calculated to gratify the aspirings of ambition, and confer distinction on superior talents."

"And yet, Mr. Delamere, you are, I think, no great friend to the spirit of patriotism in the present day?"

"No; because I believe it selfish and venial. Shew me the man that has really sacrificed his private and individual interest to the public weal, and I will no

longer continue incredulous. What can you say to our Spanish Patriots, who, after a noble and well maintained struggle for their rights and liberties, have tamely yielded them up to an imbecile and bigoted tyrant, and are seeking to crush in their colonies the spirit they are too degenerate to feel themselves? Or, what shall we think of our English Patriots, who call loudly for Reform, yet are unwilling themselves to relinquish a single sinecure that increases the national burthen ?"

"At least, Mr. Delamere, you will allow, that amongst these degraded Spaniards, the brave and unfortunate General Porlier deserved the name of Patriot ?"

"Certainly," replied Delamere, "if his intentions were, indeed, as pure as he represented them. But I know," added he, smiling, "that Porlier is one of your heroes, and I will, therefore, take for granted every thing you believe in his favour."

"So high," answered I, " is my opinion

of that noble and generous victim of a detestable tyranny, that I do not hesitate in the comparison I have often made, between your favourite Brutus, and my Spanish Hero; and you must acknowledge your Roman Patriot gains nothing by this comparison. In the latter, the cause he espoused was sullied by ingratitude, and a violation of the most sacred rights of friendship. In the former, the means were as justifiable as the motives were magnanimous and praiseworthy; and, however his errors may be lamented, his patriotism and the rectitude of his intentions must ever entitle him to admiration and sympathy."

As I ceased speaking, the servant, who had been dispatched that evening to the next post town, entered with a packet of letters, and amongst them were several for Delamere. They were the first he had received since his residence at the cottage, and an involuntary emotion of curiosity fixed my attention upon him, as he perused them. The two first he

opened, did not appear to excite any particular emotions; but as he hastily glanced over a third, he became evidently agitated. The paleness of his countenance gave way to a deep flush of crimson, and was again replaced by a deadly hue, which even extended to his quivering lips. As he continued his perusal, every feature was alternately expressive of indignation and contempt, and with a laugh perfectly hysterical, he at length exclaimed

"Ha ha! this is excellent, on my honor. Ten thousand pounds for the Messalina of her age!-and was my poor Emily sacrificed to such a being? Oh, it is too, too much!.

Overpowered by the emotions which shook his frame, Delamere sunk back on the sofa on which he was seated, and when I flew to his assistance, I found him pale, speechless, and almost insensible. Though much alarmed, I forbore ringing up the servants, whose remarks I