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strictly discharged is a fine trait of manly honesty and honour-and his wishing that a boat should be bought for his poor brother is, to my feelings, equally beautiful and affecting. There is even great sentiment and delicacy in thus bequeathing a thing-the most useful that could be devised-instead of the mere money. To my view this exhibits the spectacle of a poor fellow, with all the ignorance of his degree, and the added roughness of his profession-on the certain eve of a painful and ignominious death-and with his mind apparently unstrung by the complicated horrors of his situationyet retaining all the honourable and tender feelings of our common nature, and betokening them in a manner which would have done honour to the goodness of any heart, or the polish of any station. There did, indeed, seem to be a strong idea of honour about this poor uneducated sailor-for, on the very morning of his execution, when he was led out into the press-yard to have his irons struck off, he was again expressing anxiety on the subject of his little property, when one of the sheriffs humanely assured him, upon his word, that his wishes in this respect should be scrupulously attended to. He was instantly perfectly satisfied; he said with grateful earnestness, "Thank you, Sir,"-and did not revert to the subject afterwards.

Not long ago, I met with a very curious circumstance, which again brought with renewed freshness to my mind the occurrences of this memorable morning,-which, it may be supposed, made on me a very lasting impression. I was in the country, at a friend's house, and the conversation turned upon this subject. I related pretty nearly what I have here put upon paper, when my friend said that a gentleman lived near him, who had the extraordinary propensity of collecting the

ropes by which celebrated criminals had been hanged. I thought at first that this must be a jest, but my friend assured me, with perfect seriousness, that it was a fact, and said that, if I pleased, he would take me the next day to see this gentleman, who was always very willing to shew his strange collection, and who might very possibly possess the cord by which my poor friend Cashman suffered. There was a sort of grotesque horror in this a kind of shocking mixture of farce and tragedy,— which, though they revolted me in some degree, yet excited my curiosity very strongly. We went accordingly. This most extraordinary collector had nothing peculiar in his appearance and manner,-he talked on other subjects like any body else, and on this as a naturalist would of his collection of fossils or dried butterflies. He took us into his study, which was like any other study,-only, that along one side of it stretched a long, narrow, and rather high, mahogany press, on the top of which was written the well-known quibbleRespice finem, respice funem*. He opened this, and on a row of pegs hung several halters, all carefully arranged in order, and ticketed. On one was the name of Despard-on others, those of Hollowell and Haggerty-of Nicholson-of Hussey-of Brandreth,-and many others which were, but too well known as famous, or rather infamous, for crime. That of Cashman was not there ;-the gentleman said he had tried to procure it in vain, he having been some distance from town at the time; and when he applied to the executioner, he found that it had remained on the body when it had been given up to his friends, who, according to Irish custom, had had it waked. This Mr.

* Think on your end, think on a rope's end.

did not enter into any explanation of the causes which had led him to form this extraordinary propensity,and, of course, I could not well ask him concerning it. He talked of it very freely, however, as it did exist.He said he got the first cords cheaply enough-but that lately his taste had become known among the executioners, and they had accordingly raised their price upon him very considerably. For some of his later purchases he had given five guineas a-piece.

In all this there was not-at least there did not appear to be any feeling of levity;-extraordinary, and even revolting as it was, he did not make it additionally so by any misplaced or disgusting jest ;- he seemed to talk of it as a matter of course-very much, as I have said, as an antiquarian would do of his cabinet of curiosities. Alas, into what extraordinary whims does the mind run itself! Here is a man-apparently in other things sensible and respectable,-who devotes a large portion of his time-spends considerable sums of money-and renders himself ridiculous, if not odious, to all his friends, for the sake of making a collection which has every conceivable reason to be revolting to every physical and moral feeling of human nature.

SCRAPS,

ORIGINAL AND SELECTED.

"Inest sua gratia parvis."

AN EVERY-DAY OCCURRENCE.

From my Memoirs.

I HAD last seen Mr. Disbrook when I was quite a child,—a child about six years of age; when I sat upon his knee, and listened most attentively to the wonderful and very entertaining stories which he used to tell me. I then was very wild and happy; and he was one of those fine, free-hearted fellows who are not too aware of their own importance, to notice children. I had raced with him,-ay, and beaten him too, down the long walk at Fromewood. I had galloped over Shrawford-common on my black poney beside him, even when he was mounted on his superb hunter, "Duke Humphrey." By-the-bye, that Duke Humphrey was out of Sir Charles Bunbury's famous Jezebel.

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I was, when I had last seen Mr. Disbrook, a thoughtless child, yet not so thoughtless as to forget him ;-for years he held a most distinguished place in my memory and affections.

We left Wiltshire; I was sent off to school, and my father sold Fromewood to Lord Ms. Eleven years passed away before I beheld again our old residence. I went down with my father to visit Lord M. Fromewood was ever a most interesting place to me ;

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I was born there, and of course I was never tired of exploring all my old haunts about the house and grounds; I loved them with all the clinging fancies, and fond associations of boyish memory ;-some corners in my heart remained as young and child-like as ever, and into those corners a thousand feelings had crowded and kept close, which I begun to feel half ashamed of permitting to come abroad, as I grew into a tall, and-I must confess it-rather an awkward lad,neither a man nor a boy.

The second day after my arrival at Fromewood, I heard that Mr. Disbrook was in the house. I was in my bed-room just then, for I went up rather early to dress for dinner, because-now don't smile-because I was anxious to try the powers of the first razor I had ever possessed. I had stirred up a famous lather, and was standing on tiptoe before the glass,--the soap-suds half stopped up my nostrils,-I had drawn the razor from the hot water, and was already brandishing the reeking blade, when my father opened the door, and said, Charles, I hear that Mr. Disbrook is in the library." Down went the razor,—the foaming bubbles of the lather shrunk away in the shaving-box,-I wiped the soap from "my unrazored lip" and chin,-flung on my coat and waistcoat, and was down stairs in a minute. The image of Mr. Disbrook had so long hovered about my memory, that I had shaped his character, and even his person, to my own favourite ideas of my old kind-hearted companion. For the moment I quite forgot that I was no longer a boy ;-I rushed into the room, and seized his hand. I knew that I could not be mistaken, for he was in the library alone with Lady Ms. I scarcely looked up, my whole heart was dancing with joy; a thousand words were at my tongue's end, when 'I did look him full in the face, and really stared at him,

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