ing the friends of
his better years to know where he was, or in what business or
occupation he was engaged. Having once been the cause of his father's
ruin, he was resolved not to call upon the old gentleman again while he
could possibly avoid it, or preserve life without it. The motive for
his conduct in this trying emergency, was honorable; and in the present
hour of his bitter affliction I felt more sympathy for him, than I had
ever supposed it possible to entertain for a man who, in times past,
had made such indifferent use of his advantages. If there is any thing
in this world that can subdue the passions, damp the ardor, or quench
the spirit of a man, it is biting, remediless, hopeless poverty. Many
are the minds, far more powerful than that of Mr. Wheelwright, which
have sunk under its chilling influence. And my wonder was, how the
doctor had borne up as well as he seemed to have done, under the
complication of calamities which had befallen him.

Having heard his woeful relation through, I did what any one entitled
to the name of man, would have done under the like circumstances. He
was provided with an overcoat, and furnished with a little basket of
provisions; and I promised to call in the afternoon, and examine into
his condition for myself; albeit one of the ancient writers hath
informed us that "he that spendeth his liuelode to helpe the poore at
theyr nede, semeth mad vnto hym who hath reposed the ayd of this
presente lyfe in worldlie riches."

The melancholy history just related by my unfortunate friend, threw me,
after his departure, into a train of musing upon the vicissitudes of
life, and the inequality with which Fortune distributes her favors. I
could not help calling to mind Miss Edgeworth's admirable tale of Murad
the Unlucky, and his friend the lucky Saladin. Like the former,
Wheelwright seemed destined but to fall from one calamity into another,
and effort to retrieve his affairs, did but plunge him deeper into the
slough of misery. I could not but perceive, however, that as in the
case of the persecuted Mussulman, the misfortunes of my poor friend had
their origin in his own bad management, and to speak the honest truth,
of common sense. The wound in his hand, indeed, might perhaps be
accounted an unavoidable casualty; but had it not been for his previous
errors, this misfortune would not have proved the cause of such
hopeless penury and suffering.

We shall see, ere we close our tale whether