ing! While he felt the warmth of royal favor, and preserved in his elevation all the integrity which marked his early career, she made every one happy about her, was frequent in kind attentions to her friends, and was eminently

"The light and the joy of them all."

The most romantic visions of his youth were realized in the life of Frederick, and his happiness shone "gloriously on."

But what were our surprise, our consternation, and sorrow, when, although three months had scarce elapsed, it was publicly announced that he had resigned all his situations, and taken leave of his prince and country forever. This strange and sudden desertion of the lovely woman who had joined her fate to his-this abandonment of his friends, and this flight to a foreign land, drew from us the most pointed censure; but our sorrow overcame our resentment. Very few knew to what place he retired; and it was only in a hastily written note, in which he begged not to be censured or forgotten, that I learned the secret of his residence. In the extensive and noble domains of the De Conincke family, situated but a few miles from Copenhagen, and which "slope

down a lawn to the borders of a beautiful lake," he secluded himself from the world. In a hermitage placed in a grove of tall firs, and on the margin of a brook, where, as Sir John Carr informed you, "the willow dipped its head, and the laburnum gracefully suspended her yellow flowers," he lived for many years, intent solely on another world. The vanity and grief of this life were the subjects of his meditation; and in the constant expectation of death, he dug his own grave, and composed his epitaph.-The state of his mind may be known from the compositions which his sorrows and his solitude drew from him, and which are still preserved on marble in the little grove of firs. They were translated by William Hayley, Esq.-but I only remember the following lines, which are conceived in the same spirit with the others.

"Sorrow! thy reign is ended in the tomb!

There close the eyes that wept their fires away;
There drop the hands that clasp'd to mourn and pray ;
There sleeps the restlessness of aching hearts;

There Love, the tyrant, buries all his darts."

Nor did his wife seem less unhappy. She, too, took flight to an estate in Switzerland, and would not receive the visits even of her friends. No explana

tion of her conduct was ever given; and a mysterious silence still rests on this, as on every other part of the melancholy story of my friend.

Many years passed away in this manner, and we had learned nothing more, when, in consequence of the struggles of the French, or patriot party for power, and the determination of the Stadtholder to resist them, the revolution commenced in Holland. His princess, on her way to the Hague, was insulted by the burghers of Schoonhoven, and the royal standard was despoiled of the Orange arms. The king of Prussia resented the indignity offered to his family, and a large army of his veterans commenced their march to avenge the insult.

were

The services of Frederick De B immediately required by his sovereign; and a letter, written by his own hand, left him no alternative but consent. With an extensive and important command, a second career of glory was run, and fresh laurels were added to his former reputation.

From some circumstances that took place at the time, and from the change discovered in his manner, we had strong, and I believe conclusive evidence, that a reunion was to take place between the two unfortunates, and that the mystery would be satisfac

torily explained. Alas! we saw him no more. In the last battle fought at the Half Wiegen Sluys, and in the moment of victory, he lost his life. We were completely wretched at the intelligence, and paid him the last honors with aching hearts. His wife, to whom an express was sent with the tidings, became distracted, called incessantly for her beloved Frederick, and only recovered her senses to die with a full sense of her wretchedness, though not without a hope of meeting him again."

I was deeply affected with the story of "the distinguished Batavian," and was lost in the reflections to which it gave birth.

The most fanciful dreams of youth were realized in the manhood of Frederick; and oh! how gay and how blissful does life seem to the young. To such it is an ocean, inspiring the grandest ideas. The roar of its waves-the wide expanse of waters-the vessels gallantly making head against the wind, or running before it with all sail set, and every colour flying, produce a deep impression. In the warmth of our enthusiasm, we sigh for the time when we too shall launch our little bark, and "take our venture.” Alas, poor youth! thou knowest not the perils of its navigation—the rocks which may wreck thy peace,

The

or the quicksands from whence there is no escape! young Batavian was fortunate above his fellow men. Successful in the field, and covered with honors at an early age, he was equally fortunate in his love. His first introduction at court made him a favorite. His first acquaintance with a lady of rank and beauty, distanced every other competitor. There was a grace and fitness in their union: the one all strength, and the other all beauty; the one heart beating to the noblest duties of life-the other, the very perfection of female worth, and glowing with "lesser but healthful fires," giving light and shade to the heavier masses of his manly excellence.

And yet all this availed him nothing. Suddenly he became an outcast and an exile, without any apparent possibility of relief. It must have been an insufferable load that weighed upon him, a "peine dure et forte," which drove such a man from the world, in the prime of life, and in the midst of such prosperity.

And what must have been the sorrow of her he loved! Torn asunder by circumstances which it seemed impossible to obviate, and loving each other with an affection that knew no bounds, they must have parted in anguish and despair. In a distant