EDWARD, SIXTH LORD DIGBY.

Oh! Charity! our helpless nature's pride,
Thou friend to him who knows no friend beside,
Is there in morning's breath, or the sweet gale
That steals o'er the tired pilgrim of the vale,
Cheering with fragrance fresh his weary frame,
Aught like the incense of thy holy flame,
Is aught in all the beauties that adorn
The azure heaven, or purple lights of morn?
Is aught so fair in evening's ling'ring gleam,
As from thine eye the meek and pensive beam
That falls like saddest moonlight on the hill
And distant grove, when the wide world is still?
Thine are the ample views, that unconfined
Stretch to the utmost walks of human kind:
Thine is the Spirit, that with widest plan
Brother to brother binds, and man to man.

AMONG the many illustrious families of which our nobility is composed, that of Digby deserves a prominent position. In the reign of the first Charles, one of its descendants, the renowned Sir Kenelm, "the ornament of England," rendered the name famous throughout the Christian world, and, at all times we may trace, in the pages of history, honourable mention of this eminent house. Edward, sixth Lord Digby, to whom the following interesting narrative refers, was son of the Hon.

Edward Digby by Charlotte, his wife, sister of Henry, Lord Holland (father of Charles James Fox), and succeeded to the peerage at the decease of his grandfather, in 1752, being then just of age. The excellence of his disposition and the kindness of his heart won for him universal esteem; and few events were more deeply deplored than his untimely death. Of his active benevolence, a gentleman, who enjoyed his lordship's regard and friendship, has left the following anecdote on record:

"Lord Digby came often to Parliament Street, and I could not help remarking a singular alteration in his dress and demeanour, which took place during the great festivals. At Christmas and Easter, he was more than usually grave, and then always had on an old shabby blue coat. I was led, as well as many others, to conclude that it was some affair of the heart which caused this periodical singularity. Mr. Fox, his uncle, who had great curiosity, wished much to find out his nephew's motive for appearing at times in this manner, as in general he was esteemed more than a well dressed man. On his expressing an inclination for this purpose, Major Vaughan and another gentleman undertook to watch his lordship's motions. They accordingly set out; and observing him to go to St. George's Fields, they followed him at a distance, till they lost sight of him near the Marshalsea Prison. Wondering what could carry a person of his lordship's rank and fortune to such a place, they inquired of the turnkey if such a gentleman (describing Lord Digby) had not entered the prison? Yes, Masters,' exclaimed the fellow, with an oath, but he is not a man, he is an angel; for he comes here twice a year, sometimes oftener, and sets a number of prisoners free. And he not only does this, but he gives them sufficient to support themselves and their families till

they can find employment. This,' continued the man, is one of his extraordinary visits. He has but a few to take out to day.'- Do you know who the gentleman is?' inquired the Major. We none of us know him by any other marks,' replied the man, but by his humanity and his blue coat.'"

One of the gentlemen could not resist the desire of making some further inquiries relative to the occurrence from which he reaped so much satisfaction. The next time, accordingly, his lordship had his alms-giving conat on, he asked him what occasioned his wearing that singular dress? With a smile of great sweetness, his lordship told him that his curiosity should soon be gratified. for as they were congenial souls, he would take him with him when he next visited the place to which his coat was adapted. One morning shortly after, his lordship accordingly requested the gentleman to accompany hira on a visit to that receptacle of misery which his lordship had so often explored, to the consolation of its inhabitants. His lordship would not suffer his companion to enter the gate, lest the hideousness of the place shoul i prove disagreeable to him; but he ordered the coachman to drive to the George Inn in the Borough, where a dinner was ordered for the happy individuals he was about to liberate. Here the gentleman had the pleasure of seeing nearly thirty persons rescued from the jaws of a loathsome prison, at the inclement season of the year, being in the midst of winter, and not only released from their confinement, but restored to their families and friends, with some provision from his lordship's bounty for their immediate support.

Lord Digby went, some few months after these beneficent acts, to visit his estates in Ireland, where be caught a putrid fever, of which he died in the dawn of life, November 30, 1757.

Well may we add with the poet :

O ye, who list to Pleasure's vacant song,
As in her silken train ye troop along ;
Who, like rank cowards, from affliction fly,
Or, whilst the precious hours of life pass by,
Lie slumb'ring in the sun !—Awake, arise—
To these instructive pictures turn your eyes,
The awful view with other feelings scan,

And learn from Digby what man owes to man!

His lordship died unmarried, and was succeeded in his estates by his brother Henry, father of the present Earl Digby.

MISS SARAH CURRAN.

EVERY reader of the Sketch Book must have been caught with an early paper in it, called "The Broken Heart." Here the genius of Washington Irving found a suitable field of exercise; and he gives us, in his most polished diction, a little tale of woman's fondness and faith, continuing unaltered even to the grave. The casual reader may have lingered over the sketch, being attracted by its pathos. How much higher the interest, then, when its authenticity is declared; and we exercise the privilege, which the lapse of nearly a half century confers upon us, to name the parties referred to by the writer? There are none, now living, who can be pained by such mention, or we should forbear.

The summer of 1803 was memorable in Ireland for the insane attempt at a Revolution made by Robert Emmet. We have no wish to quit the even tenour of our way by the discussion of politics, and, least of all, Irish politics. Suffice it, therefore, for present mention, that the design was to seize the castle of Dublin, taking the Viceroy prisoner, and detaining him as a hostage, and to proclaim a Provisional Government. A depot of arms was formed in an adjoining street to the castle, and the preparations were made in undisturbed secrecy. On the 23rd of July, at nightfall, the insurgents moved from their concealment. They had but to