Perchance, in thy last agitated hour, That duteous son may tenderly sustain THE BROTHERS. It was a cold, gloomy day, and the rain fell fast; yet Arthur Western remained leaning against the wall, in one of those narrow dark allies near Newgate; the large plashing eaves' drops fell on his shoulder, till they soaked into his sleeve; still he did not stir; he felt his eye-balls expanded, and his throat parched; he could scarcely think, for a dead weight seemed pressed upon all his mental faculties. Arthur did not long remain in that gloomy attitude, for a ray of thought darted into the darkness of his mind; he still, however, stood meditating on the idea which had presented itself to him: at last, he decided; and walked quickly away. "No time must be lost," he said to himself as he hurried through the streets; but every one who has hurried through the streets of the city, finds that the throng seem all to be impeding his course: he soon reached the house of the friend he was desirous of seeing. "You cannot see Mr. Merton yet, sir," said the clerk to whom Arthur spoke, "but if you wait a few minutes, he will be disengaged." The few minutes proved more than an hour, and Arthur did not regret it, for he had more time to think over the resolution he had taken; and the wildness and heat of his appearance passed off. His looks were as calm as the tone in which he spoke, when he told Mr. Merton his intention of going to New South Wales. "Are you mad," he replied, " pray tell me why? what can induce you to give up your prospects? who has put this into your head, for I am sure you had not thought of this rash scheme when you left me yesterday? You are not apt to act hastily, or like a mere romantic boy."" My dear sir," said Arthur, "I am quite resolved; and no one has put this into my head: I have not consulted any one, but I have been to take leave of my poor brother; I had left him as one for whom I could only pray in future, and I never felt so miserable in my life: |