year, and those of the common day-labourers in the fields. He did not at all like the path which had been chalked out for him in life-the prospect of taking a curacy, and keeping one hog-maned cob on grass and grave-stones in a church-yard; and he talked, as soon as he had quite exhausted all his resources, and could positively keep the game going no longer, of putting on a blouse, taking a cottage, and working as a common ouvrier for wages. This, he said, would be much better than living, like Dr. O'Toole, in the Irish Tutor, on two hundred a year, and the run of the smallbeer barrel.

No animal is so pitiable in the world as a very poor gentleman; and Sheridan, when he said that he liked staying in people's houses very well till the last day of the fortnight arrived, and he found he had not five shillings in his pocket to give the servants, was in a miserable though not uncommon

case.

Bob Tracy, now beginning to economize for the first time in his life, did not know at which end to begin, and whilst he affected to retrench in his shoe-strings, or his snuff, continued risking twenty or thirty pounds every night at Frascati's, as if

it were nothing at all. He afforded the most perfect illustration of the old proverb-" being penny wise, and pound foolish," and had been literally known, in former days, one morning, after winning a large sum, to wrap up three pennyworth of halfpence in a five pound note, in order to fling them out of the window to a beggar. No lesson is harder for a young man than to learn the value of money.

Bob Tracy had a good heart at bottom, an excellent disposition, and very strong feelings; but, from a long-indulged habit of disregarding the future," living from hand to mouth," as it were, and pursuing a system of selfish gratification, his feelings had long since ceased to have any practical connection with his actions. He could almost weep at a tragedy; the tears would absolutely come into his eyes at the catastrophe of a romantic tale; but his heart did not work upon his practice. He was become like an old clock, of which the springs continue to go indeed, but, owing to some internal defect in the connection of the wheels of the machinery, they do not produce the proper effect upon the hands. He grew gradually more and more sarcastic, as he advanced in years, and because he had selected for himself associates who were un

principled and insincere, he had taught himself to believe that all men are without principle and without sincerity. Whenever, in the midst of his difficulties, he applied to one of his late companions to assist him, he found himself met by rebuffs and estrangement. Dr. Johnson, in his Life of the unfortunate Otway, has said, "As he who desires no virtue in his companion, has no virtue in himself, those whose society he frequented had no purpose of doing more for him than to pay his reckoning. They desired only to drink and laugh. Their fondness was without benevolence; and their familiarity without friendship:" and these words poor Bob Tracy was frequently reminded of, when he came to review his own position.

We have given, in our last chapter, a few specimens of the general tone of Mr. Fivebar's correspondence. Tracy, who was equally careless, let his letters lie about his table just in the same manner, but their contents were generally of a far less agreeable nature. Some of them were as follows:

66

My dear Sir, I regret extremely that great arrears of tythe, and the necessity of making con

siderable repairs in my glebe-house this year, prevent my making you the advances which you request. At the same time that I am obliged to deny you this, I would anxiously impress upon your mind the advisability of settling all your responsibilities without delay, and coming home to fulfil your clerical duties in England."

"And how the devil," asked Bob Tracy, indignantly throwing down the letter," how the devil am I to settle my responsibilities, unless my guardian will send me the money?"

The next was as follows:

"Dear Bob,-I would send you the money I owe you directly, with much pleasure, but I really have it not by me, and I know you would be sorry to inconvenience me.

Damn it, old fellow,

you must be turning saint, or something—talking of taking orders, and dunning for an old college gambling debt, are decided symptoms of a man thinking of making up his accounts with this world, and with the next too. I must, however, beg you to let me avail myself of your kind offer of paying this sum, at my own convenience.-Adieu."

"The ungrateful blackguard!" exclaimed Tracy, when this letter arrived, "I desired him to pay

the money, which he has owed me these two years, at his earliest convenience, thinking I could not use a stronger expression, and he coolly thanks me for my kindness, in saying he may pay me whenever it suits him! Go on to the next."

"Mr. Doubleyou presents his compliments to Mr. Tracy, and begs to return him the enclosed letter, which probably was sent him by mistake, as he has no recollection of having the honour of Mr. Tracy's acquaintance."

"Very well, indeed!" said Tracy, "extremely satisfactory, upon my word-this is from a man, who is indebted to my father and my family for every farthing, and every luxury, which he at present possesses. Tempora si fuerint nubila, solus eris. Go on to the next."

"Dear Sir,-I was considerably surprised at the tenor of a letter I lately received from you, requesting the loan of a hundred pounds. The respect I bear to the memory of your late excellent father would alone be sufficient to deter me from complying with your unreasonable petition; but, independently of this powerful motive, I have another reason, more influential still; it is, that I made a vow on a recent occasion, in which my