and unerring power directs; for he that was possessed of all these died."

Meanwhile the funeral procession moved slowly on, and arrived at Kenilworth at a much earlier hour than was expected by Mr. Henry Clarendale, whose residence was close to the church; and, long before they reached the place of destination, the road on each side was thronged with spectators, not merely from a motive of idle curiosity, but from real and genuine sympathy of the grateful inhabitants of Kenilworth. The name of Trelawney was known and respected by them all; and they who had so lately beheld the son of their patron fresh in blooming health and beauty, could not now behold his beloved remains without shedding many a heartfelt tear,

For nearly a quarter of an hour the cavalcade halted at the door of Mr. Clarendale; and Sedley and Lucy were seen at the windows overwhelmed with sorrow. Mr. Clarendale received the mourners from their respective carriages, who partook of a very slight refreshment, and then proceeded to the church, whither Mr. Clarendale and Sedley had walked before them; and when they arrived he had put on his clerical gown, and slowly ascended the pulpit, when he most impressively read the funeral prayers, during which no eye but was moistened with a tear; and in many parts his own feelings were audibly affected. It was surely of all others the most painful task which could be assigned to him, yet he felt it his duty to perform it; but when they approached the grave now open to receive the beloved William, close to that of his sister Rebecca, whose name still legibly appeared, the voice

of Mr. Clarendale trembled, and every nerve shook with agitation when he uttered the solemnly affecting words, "Our dear brother here departed." Tearsunbidden tears gushed from every eye; and Mr. Trelawney was then obliged to have recourse to the assistance of Dr. Starmer to support him, for he could no longer support himself.

At length the painful and awful ceremony was concluded, amidst the tears, the sobs, the heartfelt grief of the deeply-afflicted relatives, and the sympathizing sorrows of the surrounding spectators.

William Trelawney was now consigned to the appointed spot his last wishes had selected for his mortal remains to repose in; but the immortal part-the glorious and immortal part—was in the bosom of his Heavenly Father, receiving the merited reward of a life passed in the exercise of virtue, filial love, piety, innocence and truth.

CHAPTER XXIV.

"Have angels sinned?—and shall not man beware?
"How shall a son of earth decline the snare?
"Not folded arms, nor slackness of the mind,
"Can promise for the safety of mankind.—
"None are supinely good;-thro' care and pain,
"And various arts, the steep ascent we gain.
"This is the scene of combat, not of rest;
"Man's is laborious happiness at best:

"On this side death his dangers never cease;
"His joys are joys of conquest, not of peace."

Nor all the persuasions of Mr. Clarendale, united to the affectionate entreaties of Lucy and Sedley, could prevail on Mr. Trelawney to stay an hour in Kenilworth after the melancholy ceremony was over. Anxiety for the feelings of his beloved wife was a greater consideration at the present moment than any earthly one beside; and though Dr. Starmer suggested the propriety of his staying all night at the Hermitage, yet he would not listen to a word uttered on the subject, though never had the worthy physician seen his beloved friend so greatly exhausted by internal agitation, which, having been so long suppressed in the bosom of his afflicted family, now had operated the more forcibly on his mind and feelings.

At length, Mr. Clarendale, though he could ill be spared from the respective duties of his situation, was

compelled to return with him again to the metropolis, which was accomplished in a much less distance of time than when they had set out on the mournful occasion; and, the moment they arrived in Berkeley Square, the gloomy cavalcade was instantly dismissed, and Mr. Trelawney, more exhausted by mental sufferings than even by bodily fatigue, was received by Lady Wyndham at the door of the drawing-room. She was excessively shocked at the appearance of her beloved father, who was even supported to a chair by Fothersgill, and obliged to take a glass of water before he could utter a word, and then he tremulously exclaimed,

"Your mother, my child!-speak, how is your dear mother?"

To which Lady Wyndham, pressing her father's hand to her lips, instantly replied,—

"Indeed she is much more composed than any of us dared to hope she would have been after your departure to Kenilworth, from which we did not expect you would have returned so soon; but you are ill, my dear father, indeed you are very ill,-pray take some refreshment; or retire to your chamber, and I will send you some immediately."

Dr. Starmer now added his entreaties to those of his daughter that he would instantly go to bed.

Lady Wyndham is giving you excellent advice, and let me prevail on you to follow it, my dear Trelawney," cried the worthy Doctor.

"What! before I have seen my wife?" cried Mr. Trelawney.

"Most assuredly; I would by no means have you converse with Mrs. Trelawney to-night," replied Dr.

Starmer; "you hear that you are not expected home to-night; be persuaded, then, my dearest friend, and to-morrow you will be more collected."

Mr. Trelawney now took the advice of his friends, and retired with Tanjore; but it was not till successive weeks had elapsed before this amiable family were at all reconciled to the affecting loss they had sustained; and there were times when the memory of the dear departed William was held in such sacred remembrance by Mr. Trelawney, that he could not converse even with his most intimate friends.

Time, however, imperceptibly draws a veil over events which have been marked by the peculiar hand of destiny; and there is no affliction which it sends that it does not assist human fortitude to sustain, nor is there any thing but a consciousness of guilt alone which can render man miserable for life.

All the requests of the departed William were faithfully complied with by his father, with respect to the bequests he had made to his relatives, and every wish that he had expressed was conscientiously and fondly remembered, and punctually performed, a very short time after his demise; and Christopher had his choice, either to remain in the service of Mr. Trelawney or be provided for in any other capacity, to which was added an annuity for the residue of his life.

"Let me remain with you, then, Sir," said Christopher, "and prove my gratitude to the end of my existence. I should never be happy if I lived out of your family, and, so please you, permit me to end my days in it."

"So be it, honest Christopher," cried Mr. Trelawney, much affected by the grateful attachment which