As evening came on, he reverted to the past. "I have a tale to relate," he

said, "and much explanation to give concerning the past; perhaps you can

assist me to curtail it. Do you remember your father? I had never the

happiness of seeing him, but his name is one of my earliest recollections:

he stands written in my mind's tablets as the type of all that was gallant,

amiable, and fascinating in man. His wit was not more conspicuous than the

overflowing goodness of his heart, which he poured in such full measure on

his friends, as to leave, alas! small remnant for himself."

Encouraged by this encomium, I proceeded, in answer to his inquiries, to

relate what I remembered of my parent; and he gave an account of those

circumstances which had brought about a neglect of my father's testamentary

letter. When, in after times, Adrian's father, then king of England, felt

his situation become more perilous, his line of conduct more embarrassed,

again and again he wished for his early friend, who might stand a mound

against the impetuous anger of his queen, a mediator between him and the

parliament. From the time that he had quitted London, on the fatal night of

his defeat at the gaming-table, the king had received no tidings concerning

him; and when, after the lapse of years, he exerted himself to discover

him, every trace was lost. With fonder regret than ever, he clung to his

memory; and gave it in charge to his son, if ever he should meet this

valued friend, in his name to bestow every succour, and to assure him that,

to the last, his attachment survived separation and silence.

A short time before Adrian's visit to Cumberland, the heir of the nobleman

to whom my father had confided his last appeal to his royal master, put

The Last Man