in words, and with an accent that penetrated to the soul, expressed the cause and extent of his misery; and in a spirit of prophecy, which was but too truly fulfilled, exclaimed, that he should never, never again know what it was to be happy.

Immediately after the intended marriage of my sister was made public, he entered into the Oxfordshire militia, which was then encamped, in the hope that the bustle and novelty of a military life might efface those recollections which were incompatible with his peace of mind. But all was in vain. A deep melancholy settled and preyed upon his mind. Calamities the most dreadful, which in the course of a few years afterwards happened in his own family, increased this load of affliction. His mother became disordered in her mind; one of his sisters was affected with all the symptoms of a consumption; and his brother became the subject of a public prosecution. This last misfortune struck a blow to his peace of mind, from which he never recovered. I saw him, immediately after the news of it had reached him, suffering tortures of the mind which I have never witnessed before or since. He soon afterwards set out upon a journey into France, in the hope that a change of place, and of objects, might relieve the anguish which he suffered; but it was to no purpose. Nothing could dissipate, for a single moment, the gloom which hung upon him. He had no sooner arrived in any town than he was impatient to leave it; and he hurried from place to place, more dejected every day, and more declining in his health, till, upon his arrival at Calais, on his return, he was too ill to proceed any farther. His

companion in his travels* immediately wrote to me to apprize me of his situation; and with all possible expedition I set out to join him. I trembled lest he should not have made a will, for I knew the distressed state of his sisters, and that, if he were to die intestate, all his estates would descend to the very brother who had shortened his days. I arrived; but too late for every thing but to witness his last agonies. He turned upon me his dying eyes, attempted to speak, but was unable, and shortly after expired. The recollection of the situation in which he left his family aggravated his sufferings. He had twice attempted to make his will, but found it impossible. In the delirium of the fever which consumed him, he often exclaimed, when disturbed by the noise of a hammering in the court-yard of the inn where he lay, that he heard they were preparing the rack for him. Unhappy man! the torments of his sensible and affectionate mind were more poignant even than those of the rack which he dreaded; and yet he, whose destiny it was thus exquisitely to suffer, had employed his whole life in serving his friends, in acts of kindness, humanity, and generosity, and had never done an injury to any one, or entertained a sentiment but of virtue and benevolence. His body was conveyed to Canterbury, and now lies buried in the churchyard of the cathedral.

The worst evils to his family, which on his deathbed he anticipated, soon befell them. The brother enjoyed the estate, and left the youngest of his sisters (though her conduct had always been irre* Mr. Byrne, the engraver.

proachable) in a condition so wretched and destitute, that, but for the charity of one* of his friends, who maintained her, she would have perished through misery and hunger.

The melancholy fate of poor Greenway has led me much beyond the period to which I had brought down the account of myself. I wished to conclude his story before I proceeded with my own; and I have spared myself the frequent renewal of affliction, by crowding into a few pages the miseries and the daily sufferings of several years. From the time of my sister's marriage, nay, from the time when it was first in contemplation, he knew no happiness; but he lingered through seven tedious years, before his sorrows laid him in the grave. He lived long enough to see the instability of human happiness; and to witness the cruel misfortunes which overwhelmed those whom he had considered as completely blessed.

But let me not anticipate other calamities; let me rather postpone them as long as possible, and forget awhile that they are fast approaching, to live over again and enjoy completely the too short period of pure and unmixed happiness, which followed my sister's marriage. I had always loved

her with the tenderest affection. I had conceived for Roget the sincerest friendship, and their union increased and enlivened these sentiments. I passed most of my leisure hours with them, enjoying the small but well selected society which frequented

*In an account book kept by him, during this period, and down to 1792, there are frequent entries of small sums paid by him to Miss Greenway. ED.

their house, and enjoying still more their conversation when alone.

I shall never forget the charms of our little frugal suppers, at which none but us three were present; but where we never were at a loss for topics that went to the hearts of all of us: where each spoke without the least reserve, nay, where each thought aloud, and was not only happy in himself, but happy from the happiness of those most dear to him. Our happiness, indeed, was such that it could hardly be increased; but, if not increased, we might, at least, reckon upon its duration; the sources of our enjoyment were in ourselves, not dependant upon the gifts of fortune, and not subject to the tyranny of opinion. We were young; myself,, indeed, but just of age: and many years, in the enjoyment of the purest friendship and affection, seemed to be in store for us. Vain, however, were these expectations! our happiness was as transient as it was pure.

NARRATIVE OF HIS EARLY LIFE, CONTINUED BY HIMSELF IN 1813.

1778-1789.

Tanhurst*, August 28. 1813.

AFTER an interval of seventeen years, I am about to resume the task of writing my life; a task undertaken in very different circumstances, and with very different views, from those with which I now resume it. When I began to set down the few events of my unimportant history, I was living in great privacy, I was unmarried, and it seemed in a very high degree probable that I should always remain so. My life was wasting away with few very lively enjoyments, and without the prospect that my existence could ever have much influence on the happiness of others; or that I should leave behind me any trace by which, twenty years after I was dead, it could be known that ever I had lived. But since that period, and within the last few years, I have been in situations that were more conspicuous; and though it has never been my good fortune to render any important service, either to my fellow-creatures or to my country, yet, for a short period of time, at least, some degree of public attention has been fixed on me. It is, however, with no view to the public that I am induced to preserve any memorial of my life; but wholly from

* A country house, in Surrey, on the side of Leith Hill. —- Ed.