and half a crown. Lest the mention of this sum may appear singular, it must be noted that on the previous day he had carefully wrapped it up in various folds of paper, that no part of it might be lost. To hoard it was now his chief concern.

On the arrival of the old gentleman, his son and his wife neglected nothing that was likely to render the country a scene of quiet to him. But he carried that within his bosom, which baffled every effort of the kind. His mind, cast away on the vast and troubled ocean of his property, extending beyond the bounds of his calculation, amused itself with fetching and carrying a few guineas, which in that ocean were indeed but a drop.

The first symptom of more immediate decay, was his inability to enjoy his rest at night. He was frequently heard at midnight, as if struggling with some one in his chamber, and crying out, "I will keep my money, I will; nobody shall rob me of my property!" If any one of the family entered the room, he would start from his fever of anxiety, and as if waking from a troubled dream, hurry into bed again, and seem unconscious of what had happened. At other times when perfectly awake, he would walk to the spot where he had concealed his money to see if it was safe.

In the autumn of 1789, he lost his memory entirely; his senses sunk rapidly into decay, his mind became unsettled, and gusts of the most violent passion began to usurp the place of his former command of temper. For six weeks previous to his death, he would go to rest in his clothes, as perfectly dressed as during the day. He was one morning found fast asleep between the sheets with his shoes on his feet, his stick in his hand, and an old torn hat on his head. On this circumstance being discovered, a servant was set to watch, and take care that he undressed himself; yet so desirous was he of continuing this custom, that he told the servant, with his usual providence about money, that if he would not take any notice of him, he would leave him something in his will.

His singular appetite he retained till within a few days of his dissolution, and walked on foot twelve miles only a fortnight before he died.

On the 18th of November, he manifested signs of that total debility which carried him to his grave. He lingered till the 26th, when he expired without a sigh; leaving property to the amount of above £800,000. The value of that which he had bequeathed to his two sons, was estimated at half a million, and the remainder, consisting of entailed estates, devolved to Mr. Timms, son of Lieutenant-colonel Timms, of the Horse Guards.

The following Epitaph on Mr. Elwes appeared in the Chelmsford Chronicle. It is altogether a just and striking picture of the singular being whose memory it is intended to perpetuate :

Here, to man's honour or to man's disgrace,

Lies a strong picture of the human race

In ELWES' form;-whose spirit, heart, and mind,
Virtue and vice in firmest tints combined;

Rough was the rock, but blended deep with ore,
And base the mass-that many a diamond bore:
Meanness to grandeur, folly join'd to sense,
And av'rice coupled with benevolence;

Whose lips ne'er broke a truth, nor hands a trust,
Were sometimes warmly kind-and always just;
With power to reach Ambition's highest berth,
He sunk a mortal grovelling to the earth;
Lost in the lust of adding pelf to pelf,
Poor to the poor-still poorer to himself:
Whose wants, that nearly bent to all but stealth,
Ne'er in his country's plunder dug for wealth;
Call'd by her voice-but call'd without expense,
His noble nature roused in her defence;
And in the Senate labouring in her cause,
The firmest guardian of the fairest laws
He stood;-and each instinctive taint above,
To every bribe preferr'd a people's love;
Yet still with no stern patriotism fired,
Wrapt up in wealth, to wealth again retired.
By Penury guarded from Pride's sickly train,
Living a length of days without a pain,

And adding to the millions never tried,

Loved-pitied-scorn'd-and honour'd-ELWES died! Learn from this proof, that in life's tempting scene Man is a compound of the great and mean; Discordant qualities together tied,

Virtues in him and vices are allied:

The sport of follies, or of crimes the heir,

We all the mixtures of an ELWES share.

Pondering his faults-then ne'er his worth disown,
But in his nature recollect thine own;

And think-for life and pardon where to trust,
Were God not MERCY, when his creature's dust.

BARON D'AGUILAR.

HE Baron d'Aguilar may justly be classed among the most singular characters of the age in which he lived. The elements were so mixed up in him as to form a truly extraordinary combination of vice and virtue; of misanthropy and benevolence; of meanness and integrity; of avarice and liberality; of pride and humility; of cruelty and kindCourted during the early part of his life in the walks of elegance and fashion, he rendered himself despised towards the conclusion of it by his meanness and degeneracy.

ness.

Ephraim Lopes Pereira d'Aguilar, descended of Jewish parents, was born about the year 1740, at Vienna. His father was a native of Portugal, but, in 1722, quitted that country on account of his religion, and came to England. In 1736, he went to Vienna, where he submitted to the imperial court proposals for farming the duties on tobacco and snuff. In this undertaking he was so successful, that he afterwards became not only a confidant of the Empress Maria Theresa, but was appointed her cashier. About the year 1756 he returned to England with a family of twelve children, and in 1759 died, very rich, leaving his title to his eldest son, the late baron, and the subject of these pages.

In 1758, the baron was naturalized, and married the daughter of the late Moses Mendes da Costa, Esq., whose fortune was stated, by report, at one hundred and fifty thousand pounds, which was settled on her previous to marriage. By this lady the baron had two daughters, both of whom were living at his death, and inherited his large property.

Having been left a widower in 1763, the baron a few years afterwards married the widow of Benjamin Mendes da Costa, Esq., who likewise brought him a considerable fortune. During his first, and for somes time after his second marriage, the baron lived in the highest style of fashion, in Broad street Buildings, being extensively engaged in mercantile pursuits, and keeping several carriages, and upwards of twenty servants. But on the commencement of the American war, having lost an estate of fifteen thousand acres on that continent, this, and other losses, together with domestic disagreements, induced him to alter his plan of living. On the expiration of his lease be removed from Broad street Buildings, totally withdrawing himself from his family connections and the society of the gay world.

This, and a total change in his manners and temper, led to a separation from his wife, who possessed an independent income. Though he had quitted his elegant mansion, he had still abundant choice of a residence, being the owner of several other splendid houses in London and its vicinity. He had also some ground close to the New River, which he converted into a farmyard.

Having relinquished the pursuits of a gentleman, the baron took it into his head to adopt those of the farmer: but his farming speculations he carried on in a manner peculiar to himself. His farmyard at Islington was a real curiosity of the kind. From the state in which the cattle were kept, it received the characteristic appellation of the "Starvation Farm Yard." These wretched animals, exhibiting the appearance of mere skin and bone, might be seen amidst heaps of dung and filth, some just ready to expire, and some not yet reduced so low, preying upon others. His hogs would often make free with his ducks and poultry; for though brought up a Jew, the baron had always plenty of pork and bacon for his own consumption. The miserable situation of these animals, doomed to this state of living death, frequently excited the indignation of passengers, who would often assemble in crowds to hoot and pelt the baron, who generally appeared in a very mean and dirty dress.

After his removal to Islington, he would either feed the hogs, cows, and fowls himself, or stand by while they were fed, conceiving that nothing could be properly done unless he were present. His cows he used sometimes to send from the Starvation Yard, to his field at Bethnal Green, to grass, sending a servant that distance to milk them. Here his cattle in the winter time were absolutely perishing, and rather than sell any he would suffer them to die,

one after another, of want. In all cases of this kind, the man whom he employed to look after them was ordered to bury the carcass. Once, how ever, he ventured to transgress this injunction, and sold the flesh of a starved calf to a dealer in dog's meat. This circumstance coming to the knowledge of the baron, he sent to the fellow, and charged him with selling his property. The man confessed that he had sold the calf for one shilling and tenpence, which the baron deducted from his wages, and then discharged him from his service. Notwithstanding this apparent meanness, he never would claim his large property in America, nor would he suffer any other person to interfere in the business. He was not destitute of charity, for his contributions to the poor were manifold and secret. He was also a liberal patron of public institutions, and though his cattle attested that he did not always feed the hungry, yet he was seldom backward at clothing the naked, frequently inviting home ragged and distressed females, for whom he provided comfortable garments. He has been known to take into his houses fatherless children, whom he occasionally made his servants, increasing their wages with their years. So far his conduct might have excited the emulation of the Christian, but what followed disgraced the character of man; too often treachery was concealed beneath the mask of benevolence, and the hapless orphan found a deceiver in her supposed benefactor.

After a separation of twenty years, the baron called one day to see his wife. A partial reconciliation was effected; and after repeated visits, he took up his abode entirely at her house. No sooner had he established himself there, than he began to treat her with a rigour she could not endure. She, therefore, quitted him, and repaired to her relations at Hackney, and, by their advice, instituted legal proceedings against him. The baron was present in the Court of Queen's Bench, and calmly listened to the whole of the trial, to the great astonishment of the court, who not only decided unanimously in favour of the lady, but declared that he must be hardened in the extreme to show his face upon the occasion. But he contrived to render himself still more conspicuous; for, at the conclusion, he boldly advanced to petition the court that the costs might be equally divided between him and his wife. "Pray, gentlemen," said he, "make her pay half the expenses, for I am a very poor man, and it would be cruelty to distress me."

The baron's large stock of goods was sold at auction after his death. His lean cattle fetched £128; his diamonds were valued at £30,000, and his plate amounted to seven hundred weight. Among his effects were found forty-two bags of cochineal and twelve of indigo, worth together about £10,000. These articles he had purchased many years before, at a high price upon speculation, and had hoarded, resolving never to par with them till he could have a desirable profit.