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THE BROTHERS.

ON a cold harsh evening in the month of January, some years ago, I went to the chambers of my friend M. in Lincoln's Inn, to meet a party of wine-drinkers. M. had been called to the Bar the same day, and we met to drink success to him, and wish him a Chancellor's wig and the Woolsack, as the reward of his professional labours. There were some ten or a dozen of us sat down to table, and most of the company, -seemed, by their jovial manner, well disposed to make a joyous night of it; but among the drinkers, I observed one who took my attention above the rest, not indeed for his joyousness, but the contrary. He had one of those countenances that fixes an interest-one cannot well tell how. He was neither ugly nor handsome, but his face was strikingly indicative of vivid thought-while a certain air of neglect in his general appearance-an occasionally abstracted look, and a clouded brow, conveyed the impression that some inward trouble preyed upon him, and prevented him from sharing in the general convivial tone of the company. I observed, however, that he did not stint his glass when the bottles came round, but gulped down his wine like water, nor did he seem, except from a deep flush now and then upon his brow, to be more affected by it, than if the pure element had been his drink. M. sometimes addressed him cordially, but, as it seemed, rather less familiarly than the rest of us, and was answered with a correct courtesy in wellchosen words, but few. When our host's health was drank, as a new member of the Bar, the congratulations of our more serious companion rivetted the attention of the whole company. He spoke with peculiar force and fervour, and justness of expression-his mind shone out, and the cloud that had overcast his countenance passed away; but the light was brief, and seriousness, amounting almost to gloom, sunk upon him as before.

There sat beside our host a man,

who was in many respects a striking contrast to the person I have just described. He was remarkably handsome, yet the expression of his countenance was far from pleasant-there was an air, half of suspicion, half of scorn, which, to me, marred the effect of his faultless features; and from the first time I looked at him, I felt that I did not like him. He was dressed with particular care and elegance, and the ease of his manner shewed him well accustomed to society, but shewed still more that he was on excellent terms with himself. My first impressions to his prejudice were soon heightened by the matter of his conversation-he talked with an airy volubility of his intrigues and his conquests; but this was not the worst-he treated libertinism as though it were a science, and discussed the various devices of sensual depravity with as much cool precision, as readiness. What he said was evidently not the momentary impulse of vain and thoughtless sensualism-he had manifestly deliberated upon the revolting arts, in the recollection of which he revelledhe was, if what he said of himself was to be believed, both skilfully and systematically vicious. Yet withal it could not but be confessed that he talked well, and, Belial-like, "he pleased the ear," while he disgusted the moral sense.

I had met very few men of this description before, and have not met many since, though I have been told by those who go into society more than I do, that in these "march of intellect" times, they are much increased. I can well believe it, yet both for the sake of such unhappy individuals and of society, I cannot but lament it, since I know no sort of character more utterly hateful. If Providence has been pleased to make a man a fool, or if unruly passion, getting the better of reason, hurries its victim into error, our pity is excited as much as our indignation, and we feel desirous to reclaim as much as to punish; but when cool craft and sensual depra.

vity go together, we can look upon them with nothing short of unmixed detestation. But to return.

As the wine continued to go round, the voluble roué at the head of the table became more particular in the gross details of his real or fancied triumphs over simplicity and innocence, and boasted of an affair just concluded, which had taken him several months of perseverance to accomplish. "But how is it, H., that you can find time for all this ?" said some one near him-" one would think you were an idler about town, like some of the Saint James's Street fellows, who do nothing but pursue such adventures from year's end to year's end, but we all know that you read."

"Time!" replied the gay gentleman; "all find time for some recreation to which they particularly attach themselves. I know one man that, at no matter what inconvenience, will leave town for a fortnight or three weeks every season to hunt foxes in Leicestershire, and he works like a slave for it, for six months afterwards. Another spends all September and half of October in shooting, though he can so ill spare the time, that, until summer comes again, he gets but five hours' rest out of the four-and-twenty; and a third, not only expends a week every now and then, that he can but badly afford from his scientific pursuits, but courts catarrh, if not cholera, wading up to his middle in the running brooks, and seeking to rob the waters of their trout and jack. Now, I neither hunt, nor shoot, nor fish, except now and then, by accident; but I pursue a game to me more exciting, and productive of more vivid pleasure, with less fatigue; which latter I know not how any man of sense and calculation can love for itself:-so I make time, as others do, for other amusements-chacun à son gout-they have theirs, and I have mine."

I felt disgusted and offended at this speech, in which levity, insolence, and immorality were so unblushingly displayed, and I was thinking how I might best put in some observation that would at least relieve me from the painful sensation which this exhibition of unreproved licentiousness produced within me; but looking at my silent and

serious companion, to observe how he had taken this lively sally, I was diverted from my purpose, and my attention became entirely fixed upon him.

The blood rushed to his forehead, his eyes flashed, and, with a voice indicating hardly suppressed passion, he burst forth,-"I trust, sir, I may be permitted to remark, that your gay rhetoric has taken a turn that, in common justice to yourself,-at least I hope so,-it ought not to have taken. Yet it is too much to suppose that you meant merely as a joke, what you have just now been saying. I have strong feelings upon the subject, and I must confess that, so far from there being, in my opinion, any just comparison between the libertine pursuits, which men have sometimes the misfortune to fall into, and the other amusements which you have so unaccountably classed with them-I should say, supposing both to be systematically pursued, that there was just as much difference between them as there is between healthful exercise, or harmless idleness, and deliberate scoundrelism."

There was something in the emphatic manner with which this was said, that produced a silent attention from every one in the room. Every word, although uttered, as I have said, in a suppressed tone, as if the speaker had been struggling against a greater explosion of wrath, was heard by all as distinctly as it was possible for articulate sounds to fall upon the ear. The perfect silence which followed, although but momentary, was very embarrassing. The gentleman who had undergone the reproof arose, his handsome features assuming an aspect perfectly satanic

wrath was burning on his brow, and fury and revenge glared from his eyes. Our host laid his hand upon his guest's arm as he arose, as if deprecating any expression of violence. This appeared to make him hesitate for a moment; the flush of anger gave place to a cloudy paleness, over which he forced the appearance of a smile, and saying merely to my companion, who had addressed him,"We shall talk of all this, sir, at another opportunity," he resumed his seat, and M. immediately essayed to give a new turn to the conversation. In this he succeeded better than

might have been expected; and, though there was not the same freedom of conversation during the rest of the night that there had been before, the society was, to my thinking, none the less agreeable, and we did not break up until the small hours of the morning.

The severe rebuke administered to the gay gentleman by my serious companion led me to address him. I assured him that I sympathized fully with all he had said, and that he had anticipated that which I wished to have said myself, if I could have hit upon a method of doing so without appearing to make a personal charge.

Then you think me wrong, doubtless," said he; "for have not I made something like a personal charge?

"Something very like it," I replied; "and yet I do not think that those who are critically skilled in the nice distinctions between personal and general observations would so construe it."

"I am not sorry," he rejoined, "to have said what I felt to be true in such a cause; but I already feel that I ought to have better considered several collateral matters, before I took upon myself to speak as I did in this place. I may have given pain and uneasiness to my friend, who very pressingly invited me here tonight. I had no right to do that."

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Nay," I said, "he is too just and well-principled himself, not to feel that the fault was not with you, but in the occasion given. But you do not seem well," I added, seeing my companion put his hand to his throbbing temples, as if in pain.

No," he replied, "not quite well. But it signifies little-I ought to have remained at home to-night, as I have for a long time, and I ought not to have drunk wine; but it is too late to decide upon these things now."

After an interval of silence, the conversation was commenced anew in a more cheerful tone, upon general subjects; and the more I heard of my new friend's remarks, the better reason I had to admire the virtuousness of his sentiments, and the vigour and grace with which he expressed them.

We rose to go away, and in the lobby I observed Mr H., who had so ostentatiously professed his libertinism, call my new acquaintance aside,

and put a short question to him, which he quickly answered, by saying he would be found in the Gray's Inn Coffee-House at ten o'clock in the morning. I understood this to have reference to the words which had passed between them at table, and felt not a little uneasy at the thought of the serious consequences which might result from this slight ebullition of warm feeling, but upon the instant I could see no way of interfering with propriety. I resolved, however, to call upon M. in the morning, and endeavour to enlist his good offices in the task of preventing any serious rencontre between his friends.

We had now got down stairs into the wide square of Lincoln's Inn ;-it was a dreadful night-the rain and sleet pelted in our faces as we left the door, and the wind howled horribly through the passages. My serious companion, who seemed to be hardly fit to encounter such a night, even with the best appliances of coat and umbrella, had neither. As I was better furnished, and a hackneycoach was out of the question, I offered him my escort if he was going towards the Temple. He took my arm with thanks, and we pushed on together, getting miserably drenched and chilled, for there was no resisting such weather. It was pitch-dark -the moon and stars were obscured by dense and driving clouds of sleet -most of the lamps were blown out by the sudden gusts of wind, and every living thing, save ourselves, seemed frightened out of the streets. Even the hackney-coaches seemed to have deserted the townno sound of wheels was heard, nor of any thing except the harshly-roaring wind, and the dismal echoes of our footsteps as they went plash, plash, over the pavement. that my companion shook violently.

I felt

"You are quite unable to encounter such a night as this," said I; "I am afraid you are very unwell, and chilled to death with this bitter storm."

"No, no," he replied; "Iam really ashamed of this weakness; it is merely a nervous infirmity, the consequence of excitement, and will soon go off."

I could feel him clenching his teeth and grasping my arm in his effort to

repress the shivering; but it was in vain-he grew much worse. We were now close to the Temple, and he wished to bid me good-night, and proceed alone; but I felt plainly that he could not stand, much less walk alone through such a storm. "That must not be," I said, " how far have you to go?"

"To Surrey Street, only-a thousand thanks for your assistance so far, but you must not come out of your way I shall endeavour to get on myself-it is not far."

"No, indeed-I shall see you home -I should never forgive myself if I did not; you must take good care of yourself you are ill-very ill.”

"I fear I am-I was very foolish to venture out to-night, but I had persuaded myself I was stronger both in mind and body. I accept your kindness, for which I am most grateful."

My companion would now have fallen, had I not supported him. Short as the distance was to Surrey Street, we reached it with difficulty. He stopped at a door near the river -he had the key in his pocket-it was a lodging-house; and to avoid keeping the servant up, he had undertaken to let himself in. The passage was perfectly dark; he again wished to bid me good-night, but though I was myself reluctant to proceed, I knew that he could not get up stairs without assistance, and that it would be a false delicacy to refrain, under such circumstances, from intruding on his apartment. I therefore hesitated only for a moment, and then telling him that he must allow me to undertake the part of an intimate friend, and resign himself entirely to my management for the present, I walked in with him. My companion replied only by an earnest grasp of the hand.

I groped my way up, supporting him as well as I could. "This is a sorry place you have come to," he said, "but the weakness of the body breaks down pride; I only feel how very much I am indebted to you for all this trouble."

"Say nothing about it-this is the room door, I think?

"Yes," he replied, faintly," it is reached, thank God, at last."

We entered-there was neither fire nor candle burning. Fortunately

there were means of striking a light, of which I availed myself; and a chimney taper soon threw its feeble rays around the gloomy and scantily furnished room. Little used as I was to any want of comfort, there was to me something very miserable in the situation in which I found myself. I was frightened for the young man, who had sunk down upon a trunk in a corner of the room there he lay with the most ghastly expression. He was drenched to the skin, and continued to shiver so violently as to shake the whole

room.

"What is to be done?" I said; "would you wish me to call up any one ?"

"No, no, thank you; I shall be better in a few moments-I shall then get off my clothes and go to bed."

"Nay, that must be done at once; I will assist you. Come, let me take off this dripping coat-so-now the trowsers-there-here is a towel to rub you dry-and there I see are your night things. Now, let me help you to your bedside;-there now," I continued, as I settled the pillow,

you see what a nurse I am-you must endeavour to get warm, now."

He put out his hand-" God bless you," he said; "I may perhaps die very soon, but while I live I shall not forget this."

"But I am not going to leave you yet," I replied; " I must see how you come on-I want to see this shivering cease."

I saw some wood lying inside the fender; and there were some unburned coals in the grate. I have never made a fire, thought I, but it is now time to try. I had often watched the process, and now imitated what I had seen, happily with good success. I raked out the coals, piled the bits of wood in cross layers, put on the coals again, and applied my light. The fire was a good one in ten minutes, but still I could hear my friend shivering in bed. There was a kettle in the room, which I furnished with water from the ewer, and put it on the fire. When it was hot, I poured it in the basin, and held the feet of the poor shiverer in it for some minutes. Then putting him into bed again, I warmed an old dressing-gown of flannel, which I

found on a chair, and wrapped it hot round his legs and feet. I had the satisfaction to find that the shivering abated, and soon nearly ceased altogether. "See what a physician I am," said I—" and yet I never attempted any thing of the kind before. Now, if you promise to lie very quiet, I will bid you good-by for a few hours-I shall see you again by nine o'clock."

"God bless you again and again," he said; "I think you have saved me from miserably dying to-night— farewell for the present.'

I came away. The night, or morning rather, as it advanced, had become worse and worse. Fiercely in my teeth blew the bitter wind, and the dashing sleet pierced to the skin; but I hardly felt either. My heart was light and warm with the sense of having been actively engaged in doing good. I have often walked home less comfortably in a fine night.

I slept soundly for a few hours, and awoke just in time to dress and keep my appointment with my new friend, and patient-for so I was obliged to consider him. I had knocked at the hall door before I recollected that I did not know the name of the person I sought; for though I had heard it in the course of the evening before, when we were at table, I had not observed it; and afterwards it had not occurred to me to ask him. A slipshod girl, with her hair all in papers, dangling over a dirty greasy face, opened the door. "Is Mr-the gentleman, I mean, who lodges on the second floor-I want to see him."

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"I don't think he's up, sir."

"Oh, I know that; but I am come to see him in bed. He is not well, I fear."

"I believe not, sir; I will go and tell him."

But I did not wait for her announcement; and telling her I knew the room, passed on before her. 1 knocked at the door, and was answered in a hoarse hollow voice, quite unlike that I had heard the night before; yet, when I opened the door, I found it was the voice of the same man. He was partly dressed, and sitting on the side of the bed, his head towards the pillow, with his hands clasped upon his forehead. It appeared as if he had sunk down

into this position when trying to stand upon the floor. He started when he saw me, and for a moment seemed scarcely to be able to recollect me. I went towards him"How is this?" said I; "I must chide you. How could you think of trying to get up?"

"Ah, my preserver," he said again, in that frightful hoarse hollow tone, "this is indeed very kind— more than I could have hoped for even from you. I know I ought not to get up; but I must-I am unfortunately circumstanced-an appointment must be kept this morning."

"Good God!" said I, feeling his dry fiery hot hand, and observing the burning fever of his brow, "this is madness; it is impossible you can stir."

"I know it will be very difficult," he replied," for even now I could not stand; nevertheless I must go, or be branded as a coward. Were it not better to die in the attempt," he continued with more energy, "than that this should befall me? I am a soldier's son."

“And your father ?"

"Was killed in battle. I am his eldest son."

Here something like a groan burst from his labouring breast.

"Come, come," I said, "I know how this is your remark last night to Mr H.; he spoke to you as you came away?"

"Yes.'

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"Well, but that affair cannot be settled now. If there is no friend that you wish sent for, I will myself give a sufficient explanation to Mr H. for the present; but now let me assist you into bed again. Do, for our friendship's sake," I added, and took hold of his hand.

"Do you advise me to this ?"
"Yes, most decidedly."

"Then be it so, for you are indeed a friend; and I have no other now in London with whom I can advise. I can hardly speak; but while I can, hear what I have to say. I came to London full of romantic feeling, from a home where all was virtue, honour, and simplicity. I was successful in my pursuits, and in other respects happy-most happy: it is part of my misery now to think how happy I was. From the day I saw Mr H., who came to live in the house

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