not see him afterward. I have, however, set him right on that subject." But if Phillips was set right others were not, for Edward Channing, nearly a year later still refers to the poem as Dr. Bryant's; and Mr. Dana was under the same impression in 1821, when Mr. Bryant first went to Boston.- Biography of William Cullen Bryant.

ODWIN, WILLIAM, an English novelist and historian; born at Wisbeach, March 3, 1756; died at London, April 7, 1836. He was the son of a dissenting clergyman, and was himself for a while a dissenting minister. For some time he carried on business as a bookseller, under the assumed name of "Edward Baldwin," publishing a number of small histories and books for children, some of which were written by himself. In 1796 he married Mary Wollstonecraft.

Godwin's earliest work of any importance was the Inquiry Concerning Political Justice (1793), in which he urged "an intellectual republic founded upon universal benevolence." His latest work was Thoughts on Man, His Nature, Productions, and Discoveries. During his literary life he wrote an immense number of books in almost very department of literature. The most important of his strictly historical works is the History of the Commonwealth (4 vols., 1824-28). A posthumous work, The Genius of Christianity Unveiled, was published in 1873. His Autobiography, Memoirs, and Correspondence was published in 1874. William Godwin: His Friends and Contemporaries, by C. Kegan Paul, appeared in 1876. Of Godwin's

novels only two, Caleb Williams (1794) and St. Leon (1799), have decided merit. The former of these has been many times reprinted.

CALEB WILLIAMS AND FALKLAND.

I can conceive of no shock greater than that I received from the sight of Mr. Falkland. His appearance on the last occasion on which we met had been haggard, ghost-like, and wild, energy in his gestures, and frenzy in his aspect. It was now the appearance of a corpse. He was brought in, in a chair, unable to stand, fatigued and almost destroyed by the journey he had just taken. His visage was colorless, his limbs destitute of motion, almost of life. His head reclined upon his bosom, except that now and then he lifted it up, and opened his eyes with a languid glance immediately after which he sank back into his former apparent insensibility. He seemed not to have three hours to live. He had kept his chamber for several weeks but the summons of the magistrate had been delivered to him at his bedside, his orders respecting letters and written papers being so peremptory that no one had dared to disobey them. Upon reading the paper, he was seized with a very dangerous fit; but as soon as he recovered, he insisted upon being conveyed with all practicable expedition to the place of appointment. Falkland, in the most helpless state, was still Falkland, firm in command, and capable to extort obedience from every one that approached him.

What a sight was this to me! Here was Falkland, solemnly brought before a magistrate to answer to a charge of murder. Here I stood, having already declared myself the author of the charge, gravely and sacredly pledged to support it. This was my situation; and thus situated I was called upon immediately to act. My whole frame shook. I would eagerly have consented that that moment should have been the last of my existence. I, however, believed that the conduct now most indispensably incumbent on me was to lay VOL. XI.-13

the emotions of my soul naked before my hearers. I looked first at Mr. Falkland, and then at the magistrate and attendants, and then at Mr. Falkland again. My voice was suffocated with agony. I began:

"Would to God it were possible for me to retire from this scene without uttering another word: I would brave the consequences - I would submit to any imputation of cowardice, falsehood, and profligacy, rather than add to the weight of misfortune with which Mr. Falkland is overwhelmed. But the situation, and the demands of Mr. Falkland, himself, forbid me. He, in compassion for whose fallen state I would willingly forget every interest of my own, would compel me to accuse, that he might enter upon his justification. I will confess every sentiment of my heart. Mr. Falkland well knows I affirm it in his presence - how unwillingly I have proceeded to this extremity. I have reverenced him; he was worthy of reverence. From the first moment I saw him I conceived the most ardent admiration. He condescended to encourage me; I attached myself to him with the fulness of affection. He was unhappy; I exerted myself with youthful curiosity to discover the secret of his woe. This was the beginning of misfortune. What shall I say? He was indeed the murderer of Tyrrel! He suffered the Hawkinses to be executed, knowing they were innocent, and that he alone was guilty! After successful surmises, after various indiscretions on my part, and indications on his, he at length confided to me at full the fatal tale! Mr. Falkland! I most solemnly conjure you to recollect yourself! Did I ever prove myself unworthy of your confidence? The secret was a most painful burden to me; it was the extremest folly that led me unthinkingly to gain possession of it; but I would have died a thousand deaths rather than betray it. It was the jealousy of your own thoughts, and the weight that hung upon your mind, and led you to watch my motions, and conceive alarm from every particle of my conduct. You began in confidence -- why did you not continue in confidence?

"I fell at last into the hands of the miscreants. In this terrible situation, I, for the first time, attempted,

by turning informer, to throw the weight from myself. Happily for me, the London magistrate listened to my tale with insolent contempt. I soon, and long, repented my rashness, and rejoiced in my miscarriage. I acknowledge that in various ways Mr. Falkland showed humanity toward me during this period. He would have prevented my going to prison at first; he contributed to my subsistence during my detention: he had no share in the pursuit that had been set on foot against me; he at length procured my discharge when brought forward for trial. But a great part of his forbearance was unknown to me; I supposed him to be my unrelenting pursuer. I could not forget that, whoever heaped calamities on me in the sequel, they all originated in his forged accusation. The prosecution against me for felony was now at an end. Why were not my sufferings permitted to terminate then, and I allowed to hide my weary head in some obscure yet tranquil retreat? Had I not sufficiently proved my constancy and fidelity? Would not compromise in this situation have been most wise and most secure? But the restless and jealous anxiety of Mr. Falkland would not permit him to repose the least atom of confidence. The only compromise that he proposed was, that, with my own hand, I should sign myself a villain. I refused this proposal, and have ever since been driven from place to place, deprived of peace, of honest fame, even of bread. For a long time I persisted in the resolution that no emergency should convert me into the assailant. In an evil hour I at last listened to my resentment and impatience, and the hateful mistake into which I fell has produced the present scene. I now see that mistake in all its enormity. I am sure that if I had opened my heart to Mr. Falkland, if I had told him privately the tale that I have now been telling, he could not have resisted my reasonable demand. After all his precautions, he must have ultimately depended upon my forbearance. Could he be sure that if I were at last worked up to disclose everything I knew, and to enforce it with all the energy I could exert, I should obtain no credit? If he must in every case be at my mercy, in which mode ought he to

have sought his safety in conciliation, or in inexorable cruelty? Mr. Falkland is of a noble nature. Yes! in spite of the catastrophe of Tyrrel, of the miserable end of the Hawkinses, and of all that I have myself suffered, I affirm that he has qualities of the most admirable kind. It is therefore impossible that he could have resisted a frank and fervent expostulation, the frankness and fervor in which the whole soul was poured out. I despaired while it was yet time to have made the just experiment; but my despair was criminal, was treason against the sovereignty of truth. I have told a plain and unadulterated tale. I came hither to curse, but I remain to bless. I came to accuse, but am compelled to applaud. I proclaim to all the world that Mr. Falkland is a man worthy of affection and kindness, and that I am myself the basest and most odious of mankind Never will I forgive myself the iniquity of this day. The memory will always haunt me and imbitter every hour of my existence. In thus acting I have been a murderer a cool, deliberate, unfeeling murderer. I have said what my accursed precipitation has obliged me to say. Do with me as you please. I ask no favor. Death would be a kindness compared to what I feel!"

Such were the accents dictated by my remorse. I poured them out with uncontrollable impetuosity, for my heart was pierced, and I was compelled to give vent to its anguish. Every one that heard me was melted into tears. They could not resist the ardor with which I praised the great qualities of Falkland; they manifested their sympathy in the tokens of my penitence.

How shall I describe the feelings of this unfortunate man! Before I began, he seemed sunk and debilitated, incapable of any strenuous impression. When I mentioned the murder, I could perceive in him an involuntary shuddering, though it was counteracted, partly by the feebleness of his frame, and partly by the energy of his mind. This was an allegation he expected, and he had endeavored to prepare himself for it. But there was much of what I said of which he had had no previous conception. When I expressed the anguish of my mind, he seemed at first startled and alarmed, lest this