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reditary right, we know, and we lament, and we feel, in substance and in shadow; for it has filched away our substance, and withdrawn from us the shadow of a kinsman's professions, which, whether hollow or sincere, whilst the seeming lasts, is one of the bright rays that gilds this nether world.

Some characters we have known-some we have fancied-some may know themselves; for the jumble is as the jumble in real life, the active, the passive, and the neuter, crowded and huddled together, like the figures in a fantoccini successively strutting their little hour at our bidding. For reasons of state policy, we have left imagination to fill up the blank name of our picturesque village; because we would not involve ourselves in the charge of false colouring, or expose the said real and beautiful

beautiful village, to the possible ill of such an ingress of inhabitants, as would at once mar its simplicity, and pour into its vitals, the evils and vices of a large town.

And now it remains but for us to touch, and we must do it lightly-for sufficient to the day be the evil thereof-upon that memorable and disastrous campaign, headed by his late royal highness the duke of York, and commencing under bright auspices, but closing in general gloom. Alas! the registers of the years 1794 and 1795, present to our view, one unvarying journal of individual suffering and national sorrow; pouring into the bosom of mourning England, sable and woe! Those tragic passages in our story, issuing in the first revolution of France, alike bear the stamp of truth;-nor do we deviate from truth, when, in July 1830, captain Beresford,

Beresford, then sojourning in Paris, witnessed the glorious struggles of oppressed France, for her freedom and her independence!

Upper Edmonton, March 1835.

SYDNEY

SYDNEY BERESFORD.

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CHAP. I.

IF the person, who in the year of our Lord 1794 first opened his eyes to the light of this world, on board his majesty's ship Rover, and whose name answers to the initials S. B. should meet this advertisement, let him pay toll at Waterloo-bridge, and walk on the west side, betwixt the hours of eight and ten o'clock, this night of the tenth of February 18-, and two succeeding nights: and if he follow the person who may there accost him, he will meet with much to his advantage, if not to his happiness."

"It must be!-by Jupiter, it must be

VOL. I.

B

me!

me! I was launched upon this world of weal and woe on board his majesty's ship Rover, in the year of our Lord 1794; and S. B. must stand for Sydney Beresford." As he spoke, the Times newspaper dropped from the hand of Sydney Beresford, and starting upon his feet, to the utter peril of breakfast-cups and saucers, he rapidly paced the apartment.

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Sure, you are mad, Beresford," said Willoughby D'Arcy, closing the last volume of " Marriage in High Life," and looking up in the face of his friend; “mad as was poor Fitz Henry, when he cast from heart and arms, the angel, whom divine and human laws, had alike committed to his keeping."

"Read-read!" exclaimed Beresford, abruptly pausing, snatching up the paper, and thrusting it into the hand of the wondering D'Arcy. Read, boy, read; and say, whether Sydney Beresford stands not to the life?"

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D'Arcy did read, and the trials and

sorrows

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