ON THE DEATH OF HENRY ADDINGTON LECHMERE, Esq. Who was unfortunately drowned, while bathing, July 30, 1826. BY THOMAS GENT. "In the midst of life, we are in death." SAD illustration of this awful truth Was thy untimely death, lamented youth! Thy spirit noble, as a man's should be ; A SKETCH FROM REAL LIFE. BY JOHN LUSCOMBE. "I shall sleep so sweetly, Laid in my darksome grave, that they themselves HENRY KIRKE WHITE. "My own sweet home," thought Charles Lumleigh, as he was whirled rapidly along on the stage coach, "with what pleasure shall I again return to thee! and you too, my loved mother and sisters, the pain of my separation from you is amply repaid by the delight I now experience." The coach here turned a sharp angle of the road, and he strained his eyes in endeavouring to discern the fircrowned hills of the seat of his forefathers. Fancy vividly painted a few faint specks in the distance, like the woods that encircled his mother's residence, and the tears started in his eyes as he gazed. He was but eighteen, and had not yet entered into that period of life, when the kind and virtuous feelings of boyhood are silenced by the deceitful pleasures of man, or lost in the cares and attentions which too often occupy the breasts of the inhabitants of this sinful world. Charles Lumleigh was, at the time my story commences, returning from the university, where he had kept one term; and had there gained a character of attention and regularity which is often the reverse of that given to students when first released from the fancied thraldom of their parents. From childhood it had been his wish to become a minister of the Protestant Church, and this intention had gradually strengthened as he arrived to maturer years. He was heir to a comfortable fortune and estates, which, by the decease of his father, devolved on him, on his entering his twenty-first year; and in the event of his death before that time, they would become the property of his brother, a lad who had just entered the British Navy. It was not therefore the love of gain which had influenced him, but a sincere and earnest desire to become a promulgator of the Gospel, and the blessed words of eternal life. The coach had now arrived at the town of D- -, which was about two miles from Elmwood, the seat of the Lumleigh family; and leaving his trunk at the inn, he pro ceeded on foot toward his home. During the few months he had been at Oxford, a visible change had taken place in his appearance: the clear, transparent bloom of youth had fled, and his cheek was ashy pale; his step, no longer swift and firm, was slow and faltering, and his fine form appeared weakened and attenuated by disease. In truth, he was ill, and on this account he had been permitted to return during the time devoted to study; but in his letters to his mother he had slightly mentioned it, and this instance evinced his constant attachment to a beloved parent, in his endeavours to conceal from her the illness that was slowly consuming him. The path to Elmwood lay over a high down for nearly half a mile, and then wound round the side of the hill, by many a picturesque lane and leafy avenue, to the lodge of the Lumleigh residence. Charles was not sorry when he reached the entrance of the pleasant road, which was partly shaded by the young leaves of April. The sun, though early in the spring, shone with fervour, and he felt exhausted by the heat ere he had half crossed the sandy common; but in this cool retreat he felt no alleviation of his fatigue, and from extreme weariness threw himself at the foot of a large oak on the borders of the lane, and in a few moments fell into a broken and uneasy slumber. How long he had slept, he knew not, but the loud barking of a dog awakened him. He hastily unclosed his eyes, and beheld his faithful and attached Cæsar leaping around him, and by various gambols endeavouring to call his attention. He half arose, and extending his hand, the shaggy Newfoundland dog was instantly in his arms, and almost overpowered him with his caresses, At this moment, a sportive laugh reached his ears, and, looking up, he beheld two fair, youthful countenances peeping at him cautiously through the branches of the hedge, and both beaming with sisterly affection. "Dear, dear girls, how long have you been waiting for me? I am quite ashamed that I should have slept here; but indeed I could not help it," said Charles, as he assisted them to descend the bank. The sisters assured him they had not waited long; but Caroline, the eldest, exclaimed anxiously, "It was wrong, very wrong, dear Charles, to lie on the damp ground; see, the dew still remains on the grass, and you have left the print of your arm on that wet moss. I find," she continued, smiling, "I must watch my careless brother narrowly." The happy trio resumed their walk, beguiling the time, by inquiries and replies respecting the dear inhabitant of Elmwood, which was soon reached, and in the warm embrace of his mother, Charles forgot his laborious studies, and consequent illness. On the following morning, Mrs. Lumleigh questioned her son about his health, with that minute attention which a tender parent only can feel and describe. Charles strove, as far as he was able, to calm those emotions which it was evident his mother felt, and laughingly pointed to his glowing face, and asked if that savoured of illness. Mrs. Lumleigh shook her head, but did not reply: she knew too well that the crimson hue on his cheek was not that of health, and in spite of her son's remonstrances, a messenger was despatched for a physician from D——. Dr. R. did not arrive until evening, when Charles, who had fatigued himself in rambling through the grounds with his sisters, was stretched languidly on a couch, and vainly endeavouring to sleep, which seemed, when courted, to fly from him, The worthy physician was visibly affected at the sight of his patient, and in a broken voice, after mature reflection, |