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exceed what might be expected at my years. Dry your tears, good father, and let us despatch: This is a bad world; nor have I had cause to leave it with regret. Oh! wretched youth! said Jerome; how canst thou bear the sight of me with patience? I am thy murderer! it is I have brought this dismal hour upon thee! I forgive thee from my soul, said the youth, as I hope heaven will pardon me. Hear my confession, father; and give me thy blessing. How can I prepare thee for thy passage as I ought? said Jerome. Thou canst not be saved without pardoning thy foes—and canst thou forgive that impious man there! I can; said Theodore; I do—And does not this touch thee! cruel Prince! said the Friar. I sent for thee to confess him, said Manfred sternly; not to plead for him. Thou didst first incense me against him—his blood be upon thy head! It will! it will said the good man, in an agony of sorrow. Thou and I must never hope to go, where this blessed youth is going! Dispatch! said Man-fred:
