 imperiously forced its way amidst the scenes of tumultuous mirth, of licentious passion, of distracted riot, shameless effrontery, and wild intoxication—when it would force its way—even through the walls of a brothel.


IS there a reader so little experienced in the human heart, so forgetful of his own as not to feel the possibility of the following fact?
A series of uncommon calamities had been for many years the lot of the elder Henry—a succession of prosperous events had fallen to the share of his brother William—The one was the envy, while the other had the compassion of all who thought about them. For the last twenty years William had lived in affluence bordering upon splendour, his friends, his fame, his fortune daily encreasing; while Henry, throughout that very period, had, by degrees, lost all he loved on earth, and was now existing apart from civilised society—and yet—during those twenty years, where William knew one happy moment, Henry tasted hundreds.
That the state of the mind, and not outward circumstances, is the nice point on which happiness depends, is but a

quaint remark: but that intellectual power should have the force to render a man discontented in extraordinary prosperity such as that of the present bishop, or contented in his brother's extreme of adversity, requires illustration.
The first great affliction to Henry was his brother's ingratitude; but reasoning on the frailty of man's nature, and the power of man's temptations, he found excuses for William, which made him support the treatment he had received, with more tranquillity, than William's proud mind supported his brother's marriage—Henry's indulgent disposition made him less angry with William, than William was with him.
The next affliction Henry suffered, was the loss of his beloved wife—that was a grief which time and change of objects gradually alleviated; while William's wife was a permanent grief to him; her puerile mind, her talking vanity, her affected virtues, soured his domestic comfort; and, in time, he had suffered more painful moments from her society, than his brother had experienced, even from the death of her he loved,

In their children, indeed, William was the happiest—his son was a pride and pleasure to him, while Henry never thought upon his without lamenting his loss with bitter anguish. But if the elder brother had in this instance the advantage, still Henry had a resource to overbalance this article. Henry, as he lay imprisoned in his dungeon, and when, after his punishment was remitted, he was again allowed to wander and seek his subsistence where he would;
