were rendered uncertain, dreamy, and delirious.

Near the hour of midnight, the giddy party broke up, exhausted in every power. The cool air of night restored Lefevre to that consciousness of which wine, and laughter, and noise, and polluted air, had nearly deprived him. "What have I been doing?" said he to himself, as he walked the deserted street. "Where have I been? I have been led away by pleasures I condemn-but they are not guilty pleasures. Music is innocent-and dancing?—Well, I could not avoid that--and, is there any harm in it?" He was not prepared, at this moment, to remember, that things innocent in themselves, are often made dangerous by their accompaniments..

He arrived at his home, and hastened to his chamber. Rather from the impulse of habit than of desire, he bent his knees on the usual spot for his nightly devotion. He could not pray! He attempted to utter himself, but his thoughts were distracted, and his tongue faultered. The sounds of the violin were still in his ear-the objects

he had just seen were still reeling before his eyes. His frame was fit for any thing, rather than the calmness of devotion. He sighed heavily, and, with self reproaches, threw himself on his bed. He lay wakeful and restless till the dawn of day, and then fell into visionary and comfortless slumbers. Once more he thought he grew giddy in the mazes of the dance-once more he thought his pulse quickened at the familiar touch of woman-and then, again, he awoke feverish and unrefreshed.

CHAPTER XI.

OUR judgment of an action before and after its performance is widely different. In one case we frequently pronounce impartially, as on a matter in which we are not implicated; in the other, we are an interested party, and self-love will place the action in such favorable lights as to induce us, if not to justify, yet to extenuate, its improprieties.

Lefevre employed the first leisure moments of the day coolly to review his conduct on the past night. He was inclined to see his error, and yet, in spite of this inclination, his heart succeeded in its palliation. "It is true," said he, "I sangbut I did not join in the parts that were amorous and foolish. I danced-but that was unavoidable, in my circumstances. I drank rather more wine than is usual to me-but then I was not aware of the quantity, and my senses were not affected

were not perverted. At least, these pleasures are not the element of religion-I have lost my relish for devotion; and they are not the way to happiness --I never felt more unhappy. I will partake of them no more!-and, as to wine, I will adopt Douglas's rule-never to take more than two glasses; and then I shall not drink

Satisfied with himself on making these resolutions, the gloom vanished from his countenance; and, concluding that they would effectually preserve him from future dangers, he allowed himself to think of visiting at Wallis's, "when he was certain there were no parties."

Miss Wallis had, perhaps, as much to do with this desire as her brother. She was sensible, and of pleasing manners. Lefevre thought she had been attentive to him, and he had never before set such value on her attentions. He did not encourage any serious desires concerning her, and he abhorred the thought of trifling with the feelings of a young woman; but yet he felt that vague inclination to her

society, by which engaging young persons, of the contrary sexes, are so often attracted; and which, though innocent in itself, is dangerous in its tendencies.

While Lefevre, with self-complacency, was deciding how far he might, and might not go on ground that had better been abandoned altogether, he received the following letter from his friend Douglas.

"Caernarvon.

"MY VERY DEAR CHARLES,

"Your last I received at Aberystwith, after a few days delay. It was well we took the precaution of giving a double reference in the direction, was it not?otherwise I could not have had it.

"I am glad you are reconciled to your accustomed studies, and that they continue to reward you. Although subject to many interruptions, I do not lose sight of the duty of self-improvement, in the highest sense of the term. I find my pleasures in it; and they are heightened by a knowledge that we are similarly em