to it,) it changes not the current of his being--to
all the world--to all intents--for all objects, he may be the same.
He may equally serve his country--equally benefit his friends--be
generous--brave--benevolent, all that he was before. One crime, however
heinous, makes no revolution in the system--it is only the perpetual
course of sins, vices, follies, however insignificant they may seem,
which alters the nature and hardens the heart.

My mother was out of town when I returned there. They had written to her
during my illness, and while I was yet musing over the day's journal, a
letter from her was put into my hand. I transcribe it.

"My Dearest Henry,

"How dreadfully uneasy I am about you: write to me directly. I would
come to town myself, but am staying with dear Lady Dawton, who wont hear
of my going; and I cannot offend her for your sake. By the by, why have
you not called upon Lord Dawton? but, I forgot, you have been ill. My
dear, dear child, I am wretched about you, and now pale your illness
will make you look! just too, as the best part of the season is coming
on. How unlucky! Pray, don't wear a black cravat when you next call on
Lady Roseville; but choose a very fine baptiste one--it will make you
look rather delicate than ill. What physician do you have? I hope, in
God, that it is Sir Henry Halford. I shall be too miserable if it is
not. I am sure no one can conceive the anguish I suffer. Your father,
too, poor man, has been laid up with the gout for the last three days.
Keep up your spirits, my dearest child, and get some light books
to entertain you; but, pray, as soon as you are well, do go to Lord
Dawton's--he is dying to see you; but be sure not to catch cold. How
did you like Lady Chester? Pray take the greatest care of yourself, and
write soon to

"Your wretched, and most

"Affectionate Mother,

"F. P.

"P.S. How dreadfully shocking about that poor Sir John Tyrrell!"

I tossed the letter from me. Heaven pardon me if the misanthropy of my
mood made me less grateful for the maternal solicitude than I should
otherwise have been.

I took up one of the numerous books with which my table was covered; it
was a worldly work of one of the French reasoners; it gave a new turn
to my thoughts--my mind reverted to its former projects of ambition.
Who does not know what active citizens private misfortune makes us? The
public is like the pools of Bethesda--we all hasten there, to plunge in
and rid ou