if it could have come to his knowledge, would
perhaps have in some measure consoled him for his untimely end. This poor
Hawkins was surely entitled to some pity, since his being finally urged to
desperation, and brought, together with his son, to an ignominious fate, was
originally owing to the sturdiness of his virtue and independence. But the
compassion of the public was in a great measure shut against him, as they
thought it a piece of barbarous and unpardonable selfishness, that he had not
rather come boldly forward to meet the consequences of his own conduct, than
suffer a man of so much public worth as Mr. Falkland, and who had been so
desirous of doing him good, to be exposed to the risk of being tried for a
murder that he had committed.
    From this time to the present Mr. Falkland has been nearly such as you at
present see him. Though it be several years since these transactions, the
impression they made is for ever fresh in the mind of our unfortunate patron.
From thenceforward his habits became totally different. He had before been fond
of public scenes, and acting a part in the midst of the people among whom he
immediately resided. He now made himself a rigid recluse. He had no associates,
no friends. Inconsolable himself, he yet wished to treat others with kindness.
There was a solemn sadness in his manner, attended with the most perfect
gentleness and humanity. Every body respects him, for his benevolence is
unalterable; but there is a stately coldness and reserve in his behaviour, which
makes it difficult for those about him to regard him with the familiarity of
affection. These symptoms are uninterrupted, except at certain times when his
sufferings become intolerable, and he displays the marks of a furious insanity.
At those times his language is fearful and mysterious, and he seems to figure to
himself by turns every sort of persecution and alarm which may be supposed to
attend upon an accusation of murder. But, sensible of his own weakness, he is
anxious at such times to withdraw into solitude; and his domestics in general
know nothing of him but the uncommunicative and haughty, but mild dejection that
accompanies every thing he does.«
 
                                End of Volume I
 

                                   Volume II

                                   Chapter I

I have stated the narrative of Mr. Collins, interspersed with such other
information as I was able to collect, with all the exactness that my memory,
assisted by certain memorandums I made at the time, will afford. I do not
pretend to warrant the authenticity of any part of these memoirs except so much
as fell under my own knowledge, and that part