heart. He again quitted the
stage, and prepared himself for the Church; but there again he was
foiled. The ministers of our holy religion refused to receive him,
not from any moral stain upon his character, but because he had
been an actor! What is to become of the priesthood, who in the
early periods were the only actors, and selected scriptural
subjects for representation? He left in a packet for Savannah,
overwhelmed with misery and disappointment. 'Ushered into the
world by a parent who would not acknowledge him; driven out of it
in the belief that he was the proscribed of Heaven!' At the moment
they were passing the bar at Charleston, he threw himself
overboard. Efforts were made to save him; a settee was thrown over
for him to cling to until they could adopt more decisive measures
for his rescue. He saw the object; but his resolution was taken.
He waved his hand, and sunk to rise no more. I have reason to
believe, that the gentleman to whom I have alluded as having made
such fearful use of his editorial powers, felt deep remorse when
the news of his ill-timed death arrived. He also is now no more!
Poor CONWAY! Had he possessed more nerve, he might still have
triumphed over the unkindness of his fate:

'Who has not known ill fortune, never knew
Himself or his own virtue.'

In the same chapter we find a bit of artistical grouping in a historical
picture, which the reader will agree with us is well worthy of
preservation:

'The world never witnessed such powerful scenes of exciting
interest as took possession of Great Britain about this period.
The people were drunk with enthusiasm. One victory followed so
rapidly on the heels of another, that they had not time to sober
down. The peninsular campaign had closed, and the hitherto sacred
soil of France was invaded. The restoration of legitimacy, and the
momentary enthusiasm of the French in favor of their exiled
monarch, disturbed the intellects of half mankind. The magnificent
entree of LOUIS the Eighteenth into London from Heartwell Park,
where he had resided for some years, almost conveyed the idea that
it was his own capital he was entering, after his long and weary
exile. The silken banner with the _fleur de lis_ flaunting from
the walls of Devonshire-House and all the neighboring mansions in
Piccadilly; immense cavalca