near Kensington. That night notices were issued to the different post-offices; and the next day Douglas, the Russells, and other friends, joined the relatives in the search; but still it was in vain. Other days and nights were spent in the same anxious enquiry, till all enquiry was nonplussed. At length, since with all their exertions, his path could not be tracked beyond the first afternoon, a nameless fear took possession of the thoughts of his friends. Douglas was the principal excep tion to this; and, though he had his misgivings, he continued to hope, that the very listlessness which had seized him, might preserve Lefevre from injuring his

own person.

While dubitation was subsiding into despondency, rumour took care to keep up the tortures of suspense. Letters were received from different places, in answer to the notices, containing such indistinct and general information, as only served to: excite and confound expectation. And one man called on the advertiser, most confidently asserting, that he had seen a

T

person, exactly suiting the description: given in the bill, walking melancholy and late in the evening, by the side of the New

River. But, as he was rather of shabby appearance; and, as his account, on examination, was neither correct nor probable, it was concluded, that he had made up a story, with his eye on the reward.

When report had succeeded report, each one leaving the tantalized mind more suspicious to the truth of all report, a statement was sent up from a village in the North Riding of Yorkshire, which seemed to carry credibility with it. It stated, that a young man on foot tarried at the inn in that village three weeks since. That he looked very ill when he came that he, spoke to no one ate scarcely anythingand went early to bed. That he was taken much worse in the night-and died at six o'clock the next morning. That pains had been taken to find out his friends; but that all their endeavors had been fruitless; andhe had, therefore, been buried sixteen days ago by the parish. And, finally, that in every particular there was a perfect agree

ment between this person, and the printed description. The account was signed by the publican and medical attendant; and sent, in respectful and condoling terms, to the relatives of Lefevre.

This communication supplied a degree of miserable satisfaction. To give more certainty to it, another letter was despatched, with some additional questions relative to his person, his dress, and the little articles that might have been about him.

The reply to this was courteously made by the professional gentleman. The part noticing his person confirmed the conviction, that it must have been Lefevre; while the remaining part neither destroyed nor strengthened confidence. His dress had been disposed of. Neither watch, nor pocket-book, nor money, was found upon him.

A silk handkerchief was sent up, but it could not be recognised as his.

However, on the whole, the evidence warranted the identification of Lefevre with the account. Mr. Perry acquiesced in it, and Mrs. Lefevre felt fully assured of it. Woeful were her sorrows at the thought of

her son's dying without a friend to soothe him, and receiving the last offices of kindness from the cold hand of charity; but they were not so insufferable as the rack of everShe sent off a sum

lasting suspense. adequate to cover the expence, which had been incurred on the occasion. She put on mourning, resolving never to take it off, nor to believe her son existed in the world, till she saw him with her own eyes;' and it was agreed between her and her brother, that, should nothing occur within a twelvemonth to alter their purpose, they would visit the distant spot, and see a tomb-stone erected over the ashes of Lefevre !

VOL. II.

CHAPTER XXV.

LEFEVRE was not dead. Nor had he now, as formerly, any particular temptation to touch his life.' While, therefore, his relatives are left to weep over his grave; the reader, if not already wearied with his wanderings, must be content once more to trace his devious path in the land of the living.'

On leaving his little cousin, as has been mentioned, Lefevre hastened to free himself of the metropolis, in a direction the opposite to that he had before taken. This was soon accomplished; and, on coming near Kensington, he began to relax his pace, when suddenly his hand was seized by a youth he had not noticed. He started and frowned, expecting he was pursued, and resolving on resistance. But a smiling, grateful, well-known face instantly dispelled his alarm. It was the face of his protégé John Graham. He shook his hand