The novels of Charles Brockden Brown, consisting of Wieland;or, The transformation. Arthur Mervyn; or, Memoirs of the year 1793. Edgar Huntly; or, Memoirs of a sleep-walker. Jane Talbot. Ormond; or, The secret witness. Clara Howard; or, The enthusiasm of love. With a memoir of the author.

32 JANE TALBOT.
proceed. 1tis features became more grave, and he
actually sighed.
My heart, I believe thou knowest, Hlarry, is the sport,
the mere plaything, of gratitude and pity. Kindness
will melt my firmest resolutions in a moment. Entreaty
will lead me to the world's end. Gentle accents, mournful looks, in my brother, was a claim altogether irresistible. The mildness, the condescension which I now witnessed thrilled to my heart. A grateful tear rushed to
my eye, and I almost articulated, "Dear, dear brother,
be always thus kind and thus good, and I will lay down
my life for you."
It was well for us both that my brother had too much
pride or too little cunning to profit by the peculiarities
of my temper. Had he put a brotherly arm around me,
and said, in an affectionate tone, "Dear sister, oblige
me," I am afraid I should have instantly complied with
the most indiscreet and extravagant of his requests.
Far otherwise, however, was his deportment. This
condescension was momentary. The words hadl scarcely
escaped him before he seemed to recollect them as having
been unworthy of his dignity. HEe resumed his arrogant
and careless air, half whistled "ca ira," and glanced at
the garden, with, "I A tall poplar that. How old?"
"Not very old, for I planted it."
"Very likely. Just such another giddy head and
slender body as the planter's. But, now I think of it,
Jane, since your money is idle, suppose you lend me five
hundred dollars of it till to-morrow. Upon my honour,
I'll repay it then. My calls just now are particularly
urgent. See here; I have brought a chec/e ready filled.
It only wants your signature."
I felt instant and invincible repugnance to this request.
I had so long regarded my brother as void of all discretion,
and as habitually misapplying money to vicious purposes,
that I deemed it a crime of no inconsiderable degree to
supply the means of his prodigality. Occasions were
daily occurring in which much good was effected by a few
dollars, as well as much evil produced by the want of them.
My imagination pondered on the evils of poverty much
oftener than perhaps was useful, and had thence contracted