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OW a few moments detroy the happines of man! When I, this morning, et out from my inn, and aw the un rie, I ung with joy.—Flattered with the hope of eeing my mother, I formed a cheme how I would with joy urprize her. But, farewell all pleaant propects—I return to my native country, and the firt object I behold, is my dying parent; my firt lodging, a prion; and my next walk will perhaps be—oh, merciful providence! have I deerved all this?

Wait there, Francis, I hall oon be back.

Who’s there?

You mut be both hungry and thirty, I fear.

Oh, no! neither.

Here is a bottle of wine, and omething to eat, [Places the baket on the table]. I have often heard