terested concern for our welfare; and this solicitude
is not only pardonable, but may justly be demanded from those who chuse
us for their companions. This state of things was more slow to arrive
on this occasion than on most others, on account of the gravity and
loftiness of this man's behaviour.

Pleyel, however, began, at length, to employ regular means for this end.
He occasionally alluded to the circumstances in which they had formerly
met, and remarked the incongruousness between the religion and habits
of a Spaniard, with those of a native of Britain. He expressed
his astonishment at meeting our guest in this corner of the globe,
especially as, when they parted in Spain, he was taught to believe that
Carwin should never leave that country. He insinuated, that a change
so great must have been prompted by motives of a singular and momentous
kind.

No answer, or an answer wide of the purpose, was generally made to these
insinuations. Britons and Spaniards, he said, are votaries of the same
Deity, and square their faith by the same precepts; their ideas are
drawn from the same fountains of literature, and they speak dialects of
the same tongue; their government and laws have more resemblances than
differences; they were formerly provinces of the same civil, and till
lately, of the same religious, Empire.

As to the motives which induce men to change the place of their abode,
these must unavoidably be fleeting and mutable. If not bound to one spot
by conjugal or parental ties, or by the nature of that employment to
which we are indebted for subsistence, the inducements to change are far
more numerous and powerful, than opposite inducements.

He spoke as if desirous of shewing that he was not aware of the tendency
of Pleyel's remarks; yet, certain tokens were apparent, that proved him
by no means wanting in penetration. These tokens were to be read in his
countenance, and not in his words. When any thing was said, indicating
curiosity in us, the gloom of his countenance was deepened, his eyes
sunk to the ground, and his wonted air was not resumed without visible
struggle. Hence, it was obvious to infer, that some incidents of
his life were reflected on by him with regret; and that, since these
incidents were carefully concealed, and even that regret which flowed
from them laboriously stifled, they had not been merely disastrous. The
secrecy that was observed appeared not designed to provoke or baffle the
inquisitiv