Thornton died as he had lived--the reprobate and the ruffian. "Pooh," said he, in his quaint brutality, to the worthy clergyman, who attended his last moments with more zeal than success; "Pooh, what's the difference between gospel and go--spell? we agree like a bell and its clapper--you're prating while I'm hanging." Dawson died in prison, penitent and in peace. Cowardice, which spoils the honest man, often ameliorates the knave. From Lord Dawton I have received a letter, requesting me to accept a borough (in his gift), just vacated. It is a pity that generosity--such a prodigal to those who do not want it--should often be such a niggard to those who do. I need not specify my answer. One may as well be free as dependant, when one can afford it; and I hope yet to teach Lord Dawton, that to forgive the minister is not to forget the affront. Meanwhile, I am content to bury myself in my retreat with my mute teachers of logic and legislature, in order, hereafter, to justify his lordship's good opinion of my senatorial abilities. Farewell, Brutus, we shall meet at Philippi! It is some months since Lady Roseville left England; the last news we received of her, informed us, that she was living at Sienna, in utter seclusion, and very infirm health. "The day drags thro', though storms keep out the sun, And thus the heart will break, yet brokenly live on." Poor Lady Glanville! the mother of one so beautiful, so gifted, and so lost. What can I say of her which "you, and you, and you--" all who are parents, cannot feel, a thousand times more acutely, in those recesses of the heart too deep for words or tears. There are yet many hours in which I find the sister of the departed in grief, that even her husband cannot console; and I--I--my friend, my brother, have I forgotten thee in death? I lay down the pen, I turn from my employment--thy dog is at my feet, and looking at me, as if conscious of my thoughts, with an eye almost as tearful as my own. But it is not thus that I will part from my reader; our greeting was not in sorrow, neither shall be our adieus. For thee, who hast gone with me through the motley course of my confessions, I would fain trust that I have sometimes hinted at thy instruction when only appearing to strive for thy amusement. But on this I will not dwell; for the moral insisted upon often loses its effect, and all that I will venture to hope is, that I have opened to thee one true, and not utterly hacknied, page in the various and mighty volume of mankind. In this busy and restless world I have not been a vague speculator, nor an idle actor. While all around me were vigilant, I have not laid me down to sleep--even for the luxury of a poet's dream. Like the school boy, I have considered study as study, but action as delight.