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which was the great plague, is al ready done away with; and let it not be said that this measure is a valid precedent for the wholesale disfranchisement of the boroughs in Eng land. To take away the privilege of returning members to Parliament from an enormous multitude of shoe less, shirtless, priest-driven creatures, as wild and ignorant as the cattle upon the hills, is surely a very different sort of policy from that of taking away the same privilege from ancient corporations, or from moneyed interests of vast importance in the

country.

O'Connell's nonsense about the different and more favourable treat ment which England and Scotland receive by their Reform Bills, is really not worth following. It is such absolute trash in writing and in reasoning, as to be fit only for laughing at in conversation. What can one say to a man who, in a letter professing to be a grave dissertation upon a proposed act of the legislature, falls into such silly rant as this?"Justice, I exclaim-justice for Ireland! Real justice-no mockeryno delusion! Above all, no hypo

critical pretences! Justice for Ireland is my motto "

How piteous that the population of Ireland should be so much under the dominion of a man possessing so little common sense, whenever he rises above common affairs! Alas, for Ireland! she does indeed want reform, very different from Parlia mentary Reform; but where or how shall we look for it, in such a time of public madness as the present? The cry in England at present is, "Give Ireland poor laws." Even "The Standard," whose knowledge of Ireland is as certain as the ignorance of others, calls for poor laws. But for myself, I doubt the practicability of a system any thing like that of England, or at all so extensive in its operation. But this-this it is that should occupy the attention of Ministers with regard to Ireland, and not the senseless project miscalled Reform. If the Bill should pass, it will be the first part of a three-act political drama, of which the second act will be Repeal of the Union," and the third, "Rebellion in Ireland."

T. W. H.

THE PLAINT OF ABSENCE.

BY DELTA.

I THINK of thee at morning, when the shades
Fly off like spectres from the blessed sun;
I think of thee, when twilight's march pervades
The world, and wraps it in her mantle dun;
Beneath the moon, and when the midnight skies
Sparkle o'er earth, with their bright myriad eyes :—
Life seems a wilderness; I look around

In vain for thee, who spake to me of heaven:

My thoughts are mantled in a gloom profound,

And o'er my heart Grief's furrowing plough hath driven;
see no beauty in the shining day,

But peak in loneliness, and pine away:

Wrapt in the past, mine ardent longings flee
To dwell with thee!

I think of thee in Spring-time, when the flowers
Expand in beauty to the wooing sun,

When sing the small birds 'mid the greening bowers,
And from the hills the ice-freed waters run;
Amid the summer's wealth, and when the hues
Of Autumn gentlest pensiveness infuse;
And when is howling the tempestuous gale
Of Winter o'er the desolated heath;

When floods the rain-shower, or the rattling hail
Mantles the mountain in a robe of death;

From the bleak pasture and the leafless tree
I turn my weary gaze-and think of thee-
I think of thee--and lo! before my sight
Thou comest in beauty bright!

I think of thee-I muse on thee-and then
Thou stand'st before me, idol of my heart,
In thy subduing loveliness, as when,

Though link'd in spirit, Fortune bade us part:
On thy sweet presence Hope and Peace await,
And in thy melting eyes I read my fate;
Thy voice comes o'er me like the lulling sound
Öf desert fountains to the traveller's ear;
Again this dim earth grows enchanted ground,
I cling to life, and feel that thou art near;
The present disappears, the past returns,
And with the light of love my bosom burns,
But when I name thee, the illusions fade
To silence and to shade!

I think of thee-of all thy beauty's glow,
Such as, when flashing on my raptured sight,
With bright brown hair and alabaster brow,
With cheek of roses, and with eyes of light,
Thou stood'st before me in thy cloudless prime,
An angel pilgrim, sanctifying time!

And then I think, since we are sunder'd, pass
How languidly the listless hours away

While Memory comes, in slumber, with her glass,
When hush'd to peace is all the strife of day,
To pour upon my visions richly bright

Joys that have been, and hopes that set in night;
And in the virgin glory of thy charms,

I clasp thee in mine arms.

I think of thee, as when, in happier hours,

Thou stood'st in smiles, a heaven-descended guest, When life seem'd like a garden strewn with flowers, And sorrow fled at thy benign behest.

Alas! we little dreamt how soon the cloud

Of disappointment pleasure's sky may shroud. Oh Fortune! wilt thou ever take delight

To tear asunder heart that grows to heart

In mutual faith-Affection's blooms to blight--
To step between link'd souls and bid them part,
Hope's Eden-tinted landscapes to destroy,
And mingle poison in Love's cup of joy :-
Alas! when shall the flowers of Pleasure's trec
Unshaken pass by thee?

I think of thee at morn,-at noon,-at eve,-
'Mid cities and in solitude-I call

Thine image up, while Hope delights to weave Love's rainbow hues, and clothes thee in them ull;

Of thee I think upon the shore and sea

Awake and in my dreams I pine for thee! For 'mid the changes of this changeful world Thou hast been steadfast as the lucid star

Duly on Evening's radiant map unfurl'd

The first, and shining through the dusk afar.

I gaze from out the deep abyss of care

To greet that ray-and ever it is there;

Then bow, renewed in faith, to Heaven's decree, The Heaven, which gave me thee!

PASSAGES FROM THE DIARY OF A LATE PHYSICIAN.

CHAP. XI.

The Ruined Merchant.

It is a common saying, that sorrows never come alone-that " it never rains, but it pours;"* and it has been verified by experience, even from the days of that prince of the wretched-the man "whose name was Job." Now-a-days, directly a sudden accumulation of ills befalls a man, he utters some rash exclamation like the one in question, and too often submits to the inflictions of Providence with sullen indifference-like a brute to a blowor resorts, possibly, to suicide. Poor stupid unobserving man, in such a case, cannot conceive how it comes to pass that all the evils under the sun are showered down upon his head at once! There is no attempt to account for it on reasonable grounds-no reference to probable, nay, obvious causes-his own misconduct, possibly, or imprudence. In a word, he fancies that the only thing they resemble is Epicurus' fortuitous concourse of atoms. It is undoubtedly true that people are occasionally assailed by misfortunes so numerous, sudden, and simultaneous, as is really unaccountable. In the majority, however, of what are reputed such cases, a ready solution may be found, by any one of observation. Take a simple illustration. A passenger suddenly falls down in a crowded thoroughfare; and, when down and unable to rise, the one following stumbles over him-the next, over him, and so on-all unable to resist the on-pressing crowd behind; and so the first-fallen lies nearly crushed and smothered. Now, is not this frequently the case with a man mid the cares and troubles of life? One solitary disaster-one unexpect ed calamity-befalls him; the sudden shock stuns him out of his self-possession; he is dispirited, confounded, paralysed-and down he falls, in the very throng of all the pressing cares

never

and troubles of life, one implicating and dragging after it another-till all is uproar and consternation. Then it is, that we hear passionate lamentations, and cries of sorrows coming alone"-of all this "being against him;" and he either stupidly lies still, till he is crushed and trampled on, or, it may be, succeeds in scrambling to the first temporary resting-place he can espy, when he resigns himself to stupified inaction, staring vacantly at the throng of mishaps following in the wake of that one which bore him down. Whereas the first thought of one in such a situation should surely be, "let me be up and doing,' and I may yet recover myself." "Directly a man determines to think," says an eminent writer, "he is wellnigh sure of bettering his condition."

It is to the operation of such causes as these, that is to be traced, in a great majority of cases, the necessity for medical interference. Within the sphere of my own practice, I have witnessed, in such circumstances, the display of heroism and fortitude ennobling to human nature; and I have also seen instances of the most contemptible pusillanimity. I have marked a brave spirit succeed in buffeting its way out of its adversities; and I have seen as brave a one overcome by them, and falling vanquished, even with the sword of resolution gleaming in its grasp; for there are combinations of evil, against which no human energies can make a stand. Of this, I think the ensuing melancholy narrative will afford an illustration. What its effect on the mind of the reader may be, I cannot presume to speculate. Mine it has oppressed to recall the painful scenes with which it abounds, and convinced of the peculiar perils incident to rapidly acquired fortune, which too

And now behold, O Gertrude, GertrudeWhen sorrows come, they come not single spies, But in battalions!"-SHAKSPEARE.

often lifts its possessor into an element for which he is totally unfitted, and from which he falls exhausted, lower far than the sphere he had left! Mr Dudleigh's career afforded a striking illustration of the splendid but fluctuating fortunes of a great English merchant-of the magnificent results ensured by persevering industry, economy, prudence, and enterprise. Early in life he was cast upon the world, to do as he would, or rather could, with himself; for his guardian proved a swindler, and robbed his deceased friend's child of every penny that was left him. On hearing of the disastrous event, young Dudleigh instantly ran away from school, in his sixteenth year, and entered himself on board a vessel trading to the West Indies, as cabinboy. As soon as his relatives, few in number, distant in degree, and colder in affection, heard of this step, they told him, after a little languid expostulation, that as he had made his bed, so he must lie upon it; and never came near him again, till he had become ten times richer than all of them put together.

The first three or four years of young Dudleigh's novitiate at sea, were years of fearful, but not unusual hardship. I have heard him state that he was frequently flogged by the captain and mate, till the blood ran down his back like water; and kicked and cuffed about by the common sailors with infamous impunity. One cause of all this was obvious; his evident superiority over every one on board in learning and acquirements. To such an extent did his tormentors carry their tyranny, that poor Dudleigh's life became intolerable; and one evening, on leaving the vessel after its arrival in port from the West Indies, he ran to a public-house in Wapping, called for pen and ink, and wrote a letter to the chief owner of the vessel, acquainting him with the cruel usage he had suffered, and imploring his interference; adding, that if that application failed, he was determined to drown himself when they next went to sea. This letter, which was signed Henry Dudleigh, cabin-boy," astonished and interested the person to whom it was addressed; for it was accurately, and even 'eloquently worded. Young Dudleigh was sent for, and after a

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thorough examination into the nature of his pretensions, engaged as a clerk in the counting-house of the shipowners, at a small salary. He conducted himself with so much ability and integrity, and displayed such a zealous interest in his employers' concerns, that in a few years' time he was raised to the head of their large establishment, and received a salary of L.500 a-year, as their senior and confidential clerk. The experience he gained in this situation, enabled him, on the unexpected bankruptcy of his employers, to dispose most successfully of the greater proportion of what he had saved in their service. He purchased shares in two vessels, which made fortunate voyages; and the result determined him henceforth to conduct business on his own account, notwithstanding the offer of a most lucrative situation similar to his last. In a word, he went on conducting his speculations with as much prudence, as he undertook them with energy and enterprise.

The period I am alluding to may be considered as the golden age of the shipping interest; and it will occasion surprise to no one acquainted with the commercial history of those days, to hear that in little more than five years time, Mr Dudleigh could "write himself worth" L.20,000. He practised a parsimony of the most excruciating kind. Though every one on 'Change was familiar with his name, and cited him as one of the most "rising young men there," he never associated with any of them but on occasions of strict business. He was content with the humblest fare; and trudged cheerfully to and from the city to his quiet quarters near Hackney, as if he had been but a clerk luxuriating on an income of L.50 per annum. Matters went on thus prospering with him, till his thirty-second year, when he married the wealthy widow of a ship-builder. The influence which she had in his future fortunes, warrants me in pausing to describe her. She was about twenty-seven or twenty-eight years old; of passable person, as far as figure went, for her face was rather bloated and vulgar; somewhat of a dowdy in dress; insufferably vain, and fond of extravagant display; a termagant; with little or no intellect.

In fact, she was the perfect antipodes of her husband. Mr Dudleigh was a humble, unobtrusive, kind-hearted man, always intent on business, beyond which he did not pretend to know or care for much. How could such a man, it will be asked, marry such a woman?-Was he the first who has been dazzled and blinded by the blaze of a large fortune? Such was his case. Besides, a young widow is somewhat careful of undue exposures, which might fright away promising suitors. So they made a match of it; and he resuscitated the expiring business and connexion of his predecessor, and conducted it with a skill and energy, which in a short time opened upon him the floodgates of fortune. Affluence poured in from all quarters; and he was everywhere called by his panting, but distanced competitors in the city, the "fortunate" Mr Dudleigh.

One memorable day, four of his vessels, richly freighted, came, al most together, into port; and on the same day he made one of the most fortunate speculations in the funds which had been heard of for years; so that he was able to say to his as sembled family, as he drank their healths after dinner, that he would not take a quarter of a million for what he was worth! And there, surely, he might have paused, nay, made his final stand, as the possessor of such a princely fortune, acquired with unsullied honour to himself, and, latterly, spent in warrantable splendour and hospitality. But no: As is and ever will be the case, the more he had, the more he would have. Not to mention the incessant baiting of his ambitious wife, the dazzling capabilities of indefinite increase to his wealth proved irresistible. What might not be done by a man of Mr Dudleigh's celebrity, with a floating capital of some hundred and fifty thousand pounds, and as much credit as he chose to accept of? The regular course of his shipping business brought him in constantly magnificent returns, and he began to sigh after other collateral sources of money-making; for why should nearly one-half of his vast means lie unproductive? He had not long to look about, after it once became known that he was ready to employ

his floating capital in profitable speculations. The brokers, for instance, came about him, and he leagued with them. By and by the world heard of a monopoly of nutmegs. There was not a score to be had anywhere in London, but at a most exorbitant price-for the fact was, that Mr Dudleigh had laid his hands on them all, and by so doing cleared a very large sum. Presently he would play similar pranks with otto of roses; and as soon as he had quadrupled the cost of that fashionable article, he would let loose his stores on the gaping market-by which he gained as large a profit as he had made with the nutmegs. Commercial people will easily see how he did this. The brokers, who wished to effect the monopoly, would apply to him for the use of his capital, and give him an ample indemnity against whatever loss might be the fate of the speculation; and, on its proving successful, awarded him a very large proportion of the profits. This is the scheme by which many splendid fortunes have been raised, with a rapidity which has astonished their gainers as much as any one else! Then, again, he negotiated bills on a large scale, and at tremendous discounts; and, in a word, by these, and similar means, amassed, in a few years, the enor mous sum of half a million of money!

It is easy to guess at the concomitants of such a fortune as this. At the instigation of his wife-for he himself retained all his old unobtrusive and personally economical habits-he supported two splendid establishments-the one at the " West End" of the town, and the other near Richmond. His wife-for Mr Dudleigh himself seemed more like the hired steward of his fortune than its possessor-was soon surrounded by swarms of those titled blood-suckers that batten on bloated opulence which has been floated into the sea of fashion. Mrs Dudleigh's dinners, suppers, routes, soirées, fetes champêtres, flashed astonishment on the town, through the columns of the obsequious prints. Miss Dudleigh, an elegant and really amiable girl, about seventeen, was beginning to get talked of as a fashionable beauty, and, report said, had refused her coronets by dozens! While "young

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