"Yes; for an instant. But the sense of my condition returns with redoubled force the next moment.'

"Sir, instead of avoiding cheerful company, you must seek it. You are labouring under a mistake; and when restored to bodily health, you will be convinced of the falacy of these tormenting phantasies."

The sufferer shook his head. "It is vain for me to tell you of the communications I have had with the world of spirits. I know you cannot conceive of them, or believe me. is fixed irretrievably."

My doom "God is good beyond our conception, and infinitely merciful."

"I know what you would say; I have, myself, talked thus to others. To others the words may apply. I have heard reasons for my condemnation that are incontrovertible. My sins are unpardonable. I know that there is no hope for me. I have heard it proclaimed to all the worlds of the universe. I have been transported from planet to planet bodily. I know that you do not believe it. From star to star, through the immensity of space, filled with—. What I have seen and

heard, I am forbid to tell."

"Before Spiffard and his friend left the asylum, the latter paid another visit to his son. He went unaccompanied. On his re-appearance, Spiffard asked, "How did you find him

sir?"

"In tears. He seemed to be conscious that his former reception of me had been harsh. He took my hand, and tenderly pressed it at my departure, begging me to see him soon."

As the evening approached, our pedestrians, notwithstanding kind invitations to ride, returned as they came, on foot; musing and conversing on the scenes they had witnessed, this being to Spiffard, a most instructive day.

CHAPTER XVII.

The result of intemperance, and a sick chamber.

"Show not thy valiantness in wine, for wine hath destroyed many.-Ecclesiasticus.

"Is man no more than this?"

"They are as sick that surfeit with too much, as they that slave with nothing."-Shakspeare.

"Honour a physician with the honours due unto him, for the uses which ye may have of him."-Ecclesiasticus.

Bardolph.-Why, sir, for my part, I say the gentleman had drunk himself out of his five sentences.'"

"Slender.-I'll ne'er be drunk whilst I live again, but in honest, civil, godly company.'"-Shakspeare.

"A wise sentence shall be rejected when it comes out of a fool's mouth, for he will not speak it in due season.' -Ecclesiasticus.

"I would rather have a fool to make me merry, than experience to make. me sad."

"Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie.

"Cease to lament for that thou canst not help;

And study help for that which thou lamentest."-Shakspeare.

We will now return to George Frederick Cooke. Among the many who have placed themselves aloft, as beacons on the hill-top, to warn mankind of the evils that threaten them; or who serve as buoys, to mark the hidden rocks and sands, where the gallant argosei of life, (freighted with youth and health, and all the ingredients of happiness, and onward borne, her bellying sails filled with the gales of hope,) must sink if not avoided: among these warnings, buoys, and beacons, few have been more conspicuous than this highly-gifted man.

While Spiffard and Littlejohn pursued their walk from Cato's, as we have seen, Cooke, under the care of one of the younger revellers, who was either more prudent or more hardheaded than his companions, returned to town in a hack coach, which had been in attendance on the party. The young man, who although but too conversant with scenes of dissipation, had never been confined with such a companion, was occasionally

VOL. I.

10

amused by his extravagance, shocked at his profane vulgarity, and puzzled by his loud demands to be set down, and orders to the coachman to stop.

It seemed as if every vile image or word which had been presented to the eye or ear of the unhappy man during a long life, (a life partly passed among the licentious and frequently among the vilest of the vile) were called into existence and action by the demon who possessed him. The young man tired out by insolent repetitions, finally thought of governing by force, or at least threats. He had fallen on the remedy. For the tragic hero was never so far lost as to forget what was due to self-preservation when danger appeared. He could distinguish real from mock threatenings; and although he braved, as in the recent duel, the one, he shrunk from the other ، upon instinct."

Tedious the ride to the young man, ere they arrived at the Tontine Coffee House : but arrive they did, and found Trustworthy Davenport ready to receive the man he faithfully served, and even deigned to call master. Cooke, who had been for some time in a quiescent state, was roused by the stopping of the carriage and the ceasing of the rumbling noise which seemed to soothe him. He now vociferated his orders to the coachman to drive on, as loudly as he before commanded him to stop. His young companion gladly made his escape, resigning his charge to Trusty, who, presenting himself at the coach-door, solicited his patron to take his arm and alight.

"Coachman! Drive on! Stand out of the way and shut the door, you thrice three times elongated yankee son of a puritan praise-god-bare-bones! Coachman! Drive on!"

، This coachman says he can go no further, but I'll find a carriage for you in a jiffy, or I'll be swampt. Where shall I order your carrier to go?"

"To church, sirr! To church!"

"Jist git out of this coach, sir, and I'll see that you go, where you ought to go-where you want to go-I mean-so, sir, softly!"

The "yankee traveller" needed not to have changed his phraseology, for his patron was incapable of making nice distinctions. He made an effort to leave the carriage, but fell headlong into the grasp of his long-limbed valet, who in less than five minutes deposited him in the easy-chair by his bed

side.

Nature, abused, and struggling against the abuse, notwithstanding uncommon physical powers, at length gave way. A

helpless, senseless mass, the admired of thousands, was deposited in that bed where he could only awake to regrets for the past, loathings of the present, and dread of the future.

Before morning, Davenport, who slumbered in the chair by the bedside, was awakened by the groans of the tortured man. He found him almost suffocated. By changing his position he saved him from immediate death, and then hastened for one of his physicians. The nearest of the many who gladly endeavoured to prolong the life of this infatuated man, was doctor McLean; and happily he was brought in time to afford relief.

Such was the termination of the excesses at Cato's-or rather of that series of excesses, which had been rising from stage to stage, until the fabric which supported them broke down. With some constitutions this termination is a hopeless state of despair, madness and death. With Cooke it brought on severe pains, difficulty of breathing, which if relieved by blood-letting, left him a miserable penitent as long as weakness and sickness continued-and no longer.

The symptoms which at this time marked his disease were the same that ultimatelyin a more aggravated form, preceded immediate dissolution. Two of the best physicians of the city attended him; and although restored to comparative ease, he was confined to his bed for several days.

During this state of pain and sɔber reflection, he was attended by Spiffard with the assiduity of an affectionate son. Occasionally he brought Mr. Littlejohn with him, at that gentleman's request, and when the tragedian was sufficiently recovered to converse, both his guests were delighted with his stores of anecdote, sketches of character, and sallies of hu

mour.

One day that Cooke and Spiffard were alone, the old mar expressed his desire to know by what train of extraordinary circumstances his young yankee friend had become a member -and a distinguished member of the profession to which he had devoted his own extraordinary powers.

"You are the strangest young man that ever I met withyoung man?-young or old, you are unlike any thing that ever fell in my way. You tell me that you are a yankee from Vermont, yet you are a finished English actor, fit for Drury or Covent Garden. You are a very young man, yet you attach yourself to an old worn out fellow like me: you are a tea-sot and a water-drinker, yet you delight in the company of a veteran-known-proclaimed-shameless votary of the bottle!

Why is this? Come tell me what induced you to try the profession you have chosen-how you obtained your knowledge and skill in it, and how you have escaped the vices that hang about it."

Spiffard recounted his story, omitting some circumstances with which we have made the reader acquainted, and dwelling upon many theatrical adventures and characters with anecdotes more interesting to an actor than to any other person. He gave his reasons for embarking in an English ship for Quebec rather than the direct route and better sailors to New-York. He had no inducement to be in that city until late in the theatrical season, as such suited the manager's arrangements, and the desire to visit the British provinces whose history is so intimately connected with that of his own country, caused him gladly to seize the opportunity. Besides that, he wished to linger on the shores of Lake Champlain, and visit the Green Mountain spot where his father had flourished, decayed and died.

"I will not recount," he said, "the events of a passage across the Atlantic, though I might speak of clouds and winds, and dolphins, and whales, and the hopes and fears in meeting another storm-tossed bundle of planks and ropes on the ocean, and all the other pretty occurrences, from the common-place book, which occupy so many pages of modern prose namby pamby. Three times the number of days were wasted on the voyage that are sufficient to waft one of our passenger-packet-ships from Liverpool to this port. We escaped the hazards of the gulf, and in November were gladdened by the sight of the stupendous banks of the St. Lawrence, that majestic stream pouring the waters of so many inland seas into the fathomless ocean. As we approached Quebec and I saw the towering battlements of the upper town and castle, bristling with cannon, tier above tier, overhanging the houses and shipping which lay dim and dark in the shades of evening, while the sun yet played on the glittering spires and waving colours floating over them, I felt repaid for all the tedious hours I had passed on the weary weary sea. As I gazed, the eventful struggles of the brave men who fought and fell on this once important spot, rushed upon my mind with a pleasing soul-elevating melancholy. Early the next morning I landed, and found my way to the plains of Abraham. I sat on the stone which pillowed the head of the dying conqueror. I stood on the spot where one masterspirit decided the fate of the western world. I thought of Wolfe and the glorious day of his triumph and death. That day which broke the power of despotic France in the west, over