an examination. The lad, upon being interrogated,…

Sir Thomas had often made promises of influl^ing so laudable a desire; but day after day elapsed without his putting any of them in execution. The truth was, that he had contracted a sort of paternal affection for BoU

y Google

«&K MAtf OV THB WORLD* iff?

ton, and found it a difficult matter to being himself to the resolution of parting with him.

He contented himself with employing the young man's genius and activity in the direction and superintendence of his country-affairs; he consulted him on plans for improving his estate, and entrusted him with the care of their execution ; he associated him with himself in matters of difficult discussion as a magistrate; and in the sports of the field, he was his constant com* panion.

It was a long time before Mrs Selwyn, from some of the reasons I have hinted, could look on Harry with a favourable eye. When Sir Thomas first began to take notice of him, she remonstrated the danger of spoiling boys by in* dulgence, and endeavoured to counter balance the estimation of his good qualities, by the recital of little tales, which she now and then picked up against him.

It was not till some time after his return from the university, that Harry began to gain ground in the lady's esteem. That attachment and deference to the softer sex, which, at a certain age, is habitual to ours, is reckoned effeminacy amongst boys, and fixes a stain upon their manhood. Before he went to the university, Harry was under this predicament ? but, by the time of his return, he had attained the period of refinement, and shewed his aunt all those trifling civilities, which it is the prerogative of the ladies to receive; and which Mrs Selwyn was often more ready to demand, them Digitized ImCjOOQ

1$& THB MAN 07 THB WORLD,

some males of her acquaintance were to pajv In truth, it required a knowledge of many feminine qualities, which this lady doubtless possessed, to impress the mind with an idea of that courtesy which is due to the sex; for her countenance was not expressive of much softness, the natural strength of her features being commonly heightened by the assistance of snuff, and her conversation generally turning on points of controversy in religion and philosophy, which, requiring an intense exertion of thought, are therefore, I presume, from the practice of the fair in general, no way favourable to the preservation or the improvement of beauty.

It was, perhaps, from this very inclination for investigating truth, that Bolton drew an advantage in his approaches towards her esteem. As he was just returned from the seat of learning, where discussions of that sort are common, she naturally applied to him for assistance in her researches. By assistance, 1 mean opposition ; it being the quality of that desire after knowledge with which this lady was endued, to delight in nothing so much, as in having its own doctrines confronted with opposite ones* till they pommel and belabour one another without mercy; the contest having one advantage peculiar to battles of this kind, that each party, far from being weakened by its exertion, commonly appears to have gained strength, as well as honour, from the rencounter. Bolton, indeed, didr not possess cjuite so mucj)

y Google

THE If AN 07 THE WORLD. I$9

if this quality as bis antagonist. He could not, in common good-breeding, refuse her challenge; bat he often maintained the conflict in a manner rather dastardly for a philosopher. He gave, however, full audience to the lady's arguments; and if he sometimes showed an unwillingness to reply, she considered it as a testimony of her power to silence. But she was generous in her victories. Whenever she conceived them completely obtained, she celebrated the prowess of her adversary, and allowed him ail that wisdom which retreats from the fortress it cannot defend.

There was, perhaps, another reason, as forcible as that of obliging Mrs Selwyn, or attaining the recondite principles of philosophy, which increased Bolton's willingness to indulge that lady, in becoming a party to her disquisitions. There was a spectatress of the combat, whose company might have been purchased at the expence of sitting to hear Aquinas himself dispute upon theology——Miss Lucy Sindall. My readers have been acquainted, in the Introduction, with my prepossession in her favour, and the character Mrs Wistanly gave in justification of it. They were deceived by neither.

With remarkable quickness of parts, and the liveliest temper, she possessed all that tenderness which is the chief ornament of the female character; and, with a modesty that seemed to shrink from observation, she united an ease and a dignity that universally commanded it. Her vivacity only rose to be amiable; no enemy y Google

190 THE MAN OF THB WORLD.

could ever repeat her wit, and she had no friend, who did not boast of her good-humour.

I should first have described her person ; my readers wiH excuse it; it is not of such minds that I am most solicitous to observe the dwellings. I have hinted before, and I repeat it, that her's was suoh a one as no mind need be ashamed of.

Such was the attendant of Mrs Selwyn, whose company the good lady particularly required at those seasons, when she unveiled her knowledge in argument, or pointed her sagacity to instruction. She would often employ Bolton and Miss. Lucy to read her select passages of books, when a weakness in her own sight made reading uneasy to her. The subjects were rarely of the entertaining kind, yet Harry never complained of their length. This she attributed to his opinion of their usefulness ; Lucy called it good-nature; he thought so himself at first; but he soon began to discover that it proceeded from some different cause; for when Miss Lucy was, by any accident, away, he read with very little complacency. He never suspected it to be love; much less did Lucy; they owned each other for friends; and when Mrs Selwyn used to call them children, Bolton would call Lucy sister; yet he was often not displeased to remember, that she was not his rfster indeed*

y Google

THE MAN OF THE WORLD, 191

CHAP. III.

A NATURAL CONSEQUENCE OP SOME PARTICULARS

CONTAINED IN THE LAST.

• X he state of the mind may be often disguised, even from the owner, when he means to inquire into it; but a very trifle will throw it from its guard, and betray its situation, when a formal examination has failed to discover it.

Bolton would often catch himself sighing when Miss Sindall was absent, and feel his cheeks glow at her approach; he wondered what it was that made him sigh and blush.

He would sometimes take solitary walks, without knowing why he wandered out alone. He found something that pleased him in the melancholy of lonely recesses, and half-worn paths, and his day-dreams commonly ended in some idea of Miss Sindall, though he meant nothing less than to think of such an object.

He had strayed, in one of those excursions, about half a mile from the house, through a copse at the corner of the park, which opened into a little green amphitheatre, in the middle of which was a pool of water, formed by a rivulet that crept through the matted grass, till it fell into this bason by a gentle cascade.

The sun was gleaming through the trees, which were pictured on the surface of the pool beneath ; and the silence of the scene was only interrupted by the murmurs of the water-fail, v Google

192 THB MAN OF THS WORUk

sometimes accompanied by the querulous note of the wood pigeons who inhabited the neighbouring copse*

Bolton seated himself on the bank, and listened to their dirge. It ceased ; for he had disturbed the sacred, solitary haunt. ' I will give you some music in return,' said he. * and drew from his pocket a small-piped flute, which he frequently carried with him in his eveningwalks, and serenaded the lonely shepherd returning from his fold. He played a little plaintive air which himself had composed; he thought he had played it by chance; but Miss Sindall had commanded it the day before; the recollection of Miss Sindall accompanied the sound, and he had drawn ber portrait listening to its close.

She was indeed listening to its close; for accident had pointed her walk in the very^same direction with Bolton's. She was just coming out of the wood, when she heard the soft notes of his flute; they had something of fairy music in them that suited the scene, and she was

irresistibly drawn nearer the place where be sat, though some wayward feeling arose, and whispered, that she should not approach it. Her feet were approaching it whether she would or no; and she stood close by his sjde, while the last cadence was melting from his pipe.

She repeated it after him with her voice. € Miss Sindall!' cried he, starting up with some emotion. * I know/ said she,' you will be surprised to find me here 5 but I was enchanted y Google

*HB WAST OF TBB WO*l9* 193

bitter by the sound of your flute- Pfay'touch that litde melancholy tune again/ He began, jbut he played very ill. ' You blow it,' md she,

* jkot so sweetly as before; let we dry what tone I pan give it/-~She put it to her mouth, but she wanted the skill to give it voice.—* There cannot be much art in it ;'-^she tried it again—r

* and yet it will next speak at my bidding/—She looked stedfastly on the flute, holding ber fingers oo (he stops; her lips were red from the pressure, and her figure altogether so pastoral and innocent, that I do not believe the kisses with wbiehtbe poets make Diana greet her siater huntresses, were ever more chaste than that which Bolton now stole from her by surprise.

Her cheeks were rrimson at thislittie violence of Harry's, ' What do you mean, Mr Bolton ?' said she, dropping the flute to the ground.

* Twas a forfeiture/ he replied, stammering, and blushing excessively, *for attempting to blow my flute/—-' I don't understand you/ answered Lucy, and turned towards the house, with some marks of resentment on her countenance. 'Bolton was for some time rivetted to the spot; when he recovered the use of his feet, he ran after Miss Sindall, andgentJy laying" hold of her hand, * I cannot bear your anger/ said he, c though I own your displeasure is just; but

forgive, I intreat you, this unthinking offence of him, whose respect is equal to his Jove/—* Your love, Mr Bolton f—' I cannot retract the word, though my heart has betrayed from me the prudence which might have stifled

Vol. II. R

y Google

194 THE MA* OF THfi WORLrf.

the declaration. I havenot language, Miss Lucy, for the present feelings of my'soul; till this moment I never knew how much I loved you, and never could I have expressed it so in/ —He paused—she was looking fixedly on the ground, drawing her hand softly from his, which refused, involuntarily, to quit its hold—'May I not hope ?' said he,—* You have my pardon, Mr Bolton'—* But'^-' I: beg you,' said Lucy, interrupting him, 'to leave this subject; I know your merit, Mr Bolton—-my esteem-—you have thrown me into such confusion—

nay, let go my hand.'—* Pity, then, and forgive' me.'—She sighed—

he pressed her hand 'to his lips—she blushed,—and blushed, in such a manner They have never been in Bolton's situation, by whom that sigh* and that blush, would not have been understood.

CHAP. IV.

BOLTON IS SEPARATED FROM MISS WNDALL.

1 here was too much innocence in the breast of Lucy, to suffer it to be furnished with disguise. I mean not to throw any imputation on that female delicacy, which, as Milton expresses it,

•—would be woo'd, and not unsought be won.9 This, in truth, cannot be called art, because nature has given it to all her females* Let it y Google

THE MAN. 0* THE WOfc&D. 193

simply proceed from modesty, and it will never go too far; but the affectation of it is ever the consequence of weakness in the.head, or cruelty in the heart.

' I believe Miss Sindall to have been subject to neither; she did not therefore assume the pride of indifference which she did not feel, to the attachment of so much worth as Bolton's; and he had soon the happiness -to find, that his affection, which every day increased, was not lavished without hope of a return.

Bdt he did not seem to be so fortunate, meanwhile, in the estimation of every person in the family: Sir Thomas Sindall bad not of late shown that cordiality towards Bolton, with which he had been wont to favour him* As' Harry was unconscious of any reason he could have given for it, this alteration in his.cousin's behaviour was, for some time, altogether unnoticed by him : and, when at last he was forced to observe it, he attributed it to no particular cause, but considered it as merely the effect of some accidental and temporary chagrin: nor.

did he altogether change his opinion, even when Lucy suggested to him her fears on the subject, and intreated him to recollect, if he had, in any respect, disobliged his cousin, whose behaviour seemed to her to indicate some disgust.conceived particularly against him.

Not long after, the baronet informed his family of his intention of changing their plaee of residence, for some time, from Sindall-park to his other estate* where, be sajd, he fqund his. R2

y Google

186 THfc M AH 0* ftn* WORLD*

presence was become necessary; and at the same time communicated to Bolton his desire, that he should remain behind, to superintend the execution of certain plans which he had laid down with regard to the management of gome country-business at the first-mentioned place. Harry thought this sufficiently warranted his expressing a suspicion, that his company had not, of late, been so agreeable to Sir Thomas as it used to be, and begged to be informed

in what particular he had offended him. « Offended me! my dear boy/

replied Sir Thomas; * never in the least.—From what such an idea could have arisen, I know not: if from ihy leaving you here behind, when we go to BilswoOd, it is the most mistaken one' in the world:

'tis but for a few months, till those affairs I talked to you of are finished; and I hope there to halve opportunity of showing, that, in your absence, I shall be far from forgetting you.'

During the time at their stay at Sindaflpark, he behaved to Hairy in so courteous and obliging a manner, that his suspicions were totally removed; and he bore with less regret than he should otherwise have done, a separation from his Lucy, which he considered as temporary ; besides that his stay behind was necessary to him, whose countenance and friendship his attachment to that young lady had now rendered more valuable in his estimation. Love increases the list of our. dependencies; I mean it not as an argument against the passion; •hat sex, I trust, whose power it establishes, y Google

THE.MAN OF THE WOULD. 19T

will point its vassals to no pursuit but what is laudable.

Their farewell-scene passed on that very spot which I have described in the last chapter, as witness to the declaration of Bolton's passion.

Their farewell but where the feelings say

much, and the expression little, description will seldom succeed in the picture. . Their (separation, however, was alleviated by the hope, that it was not likely to. be of long continuance ; Sir Thomas's declaration, of his intending that Harry should follow them in a few months, was not forgotten; an4 the intermediate days were swallowed up, in the anticipation of the pleasures which that period should produce.

In the mean time, they took something from the pain of absence by a punctual correspondence. These letters I have seen; they describe things little in themselves; to Bolton and Lucy they were no trifles, but by cithers their importance would not be understood. One recital only I have ventured to extract for the persual of the reader; because I observe, that it strongly affected them, who, in this instapce, were interested no more than any to whom the feelings it actresses are known; and some of xay readers, probably, have the advantage of not being altogether unacquainted with the persons of .whom it speaks.

R3 .

Digitized by CjOOQLC

19S Ttt* MAH Of f HE WORM.

CHAP. V.

AN ADVENWftB OP MISS SINDALL'S AT BILSWOOD.

1 o assume her semblance, is a tribute which Vice must often pay to virtue* There are popular qualities which the world looks for, because it is aware, that it may be sometimes benefited by their exertions.

Generosity is an excel* ience, by the apparent possession of which, I have known many worthless characters buoyed up from their infamy; though with them it was but thoughtless profusion: and on the other hand, I have seen amiable men marked out with ft sneer by the million, from a temperance or reservedness of disposition, which shuns the glare of public, and the pleasures of convivial life, and gives to modesty and gentle manners the appearance of parsimony and meanness of spirit.

The imputation of merit with mankind, Sindali knew to be a necessary appendage to his character; he was careful, therefore, to omit no opportunity of stepping fbrth to their notice as a ma* of generosity. There was qot a gentleman's servant in the county, who did not talk of the knight's munificence in the article of vails; and a

park-keeper was thought a happy man, whom his master sent with a haunch of venison to Sir Thomas, Ouc? a-year, too, y Google

*HB MAN OF *HB WORLD. tS0

he feasted his tenants, and indeed the whole neighbourhood, on the large lawn in the front of his houset where the strong beer ran cascade-wise from the mouth of a leaden triton.

But there were objects of compassion, whose relief would not have figured in the eye of the public, on whom he was not so remarkable for bestowing his liberality. The beggars, he complained, were perpetually stealing his fruit* and destroying his shrubbery; he therefore kept a wolf-dog to give them their answer at the gate; and some poor families in the village on his estate had been brought to beggary by prosecutions for poaching, an offence which every country-gentleman is bound, in honour, to punish with the utmost severity of the law; and cannot, therefore, without a breach of that honour, alleviate by a weak and ill-judged exercise of benevolence.

Miss Lucy, however, as she could not so strongly feel the offence, would sometimes con* tribute to lessen the rigour of its punishment, by making small presents to the wives and children of the delinquents. Passing, one evening, by the door of a cottage, where one of those pensi&ners on her bounty lived, she observed, standing before it, a very beautiful lap-dog, with A collar and bell, ornamented much be

}?ond the trappings of any animal that could beong to the house.

From this circumstance her curiosity was excited to enter, when she was not a little surprised to find a young lady in a jjoost elegant undress, sitting on a joint-stool

y Google

800 THE MAN OF THE WORLD.

by the fire, with one of the children of the family on her lap. The ladies expressed mutual astonishment in their countenances at this meeting, when the good-woman of the house, running up to them, and clasping a hand of each in her's, ' Blessings/ said she, '

thousands of blessings on you both! a lovelier couple, or a better, my eyes never looked on/—The infant clapped its hands as if instinctively.—— * Dear heart!' continued its mother, ' look, if my Tommy be not thanking you too! well may he clap his hands : if it had not been for your gracious selves, by this time his hands would have been cold clay! (mumbling his fingers in her mouth, and bathing his arms with her tears) ; when you strictly forbade me to tell mortal of your favours, Oh! how I longed to let each of you know, that.there was another lady in the world as good as herself.'

The stranger had now recovered herself enough to tell Miss Lucy, how much it de* lighted her to find, that a young lady of her figure did not disdain to visit affliction, even amongst the poor and the lowly. '.

That reflection/ answered the other, ' applies more strongly to the lady who makes it, than £o her who is the occasion of its being made. I have not, madam, the honour of your acquaintance; but methinks, pardon my boldness, that I feel as if we were not strangers; at least I am sure that I should reckon it a piece of singular good fortune, if this interview could entitle me to call you stranger no Jonger/ . Their landlady

y Google

TH£ MAN OF THB WORLD. SOI

cried and laughed by turns; and her two guests were so much pleased with this meeting, that they appointed a renewal of it, at an hour some* what earlier of the subsequent evening.

Lucy came a few minutes before the time of appointment; when she learned, that the stranger was the daughter of a neighbouring gentleman, whom a difference of disposition from that of Sir Thomas Sindall, arising at last to a particular coolness, had entirely estranged for many years from the baronet, and prevented all intercourse

between the families. , When this lady arrived, she brought such tidings along with her, that I question, if in nil the sumptuous abodes of wealth and grandeur, there was to be found so much sincerity of joy, as within the ragged and mouldering walls of the hovel which she graced with her presence* She informed the grateful mistress of it, that by her intercession with some justice of the peace, who made part of the judicature before whom the poor woman's husband was brought, his punishment had been mitigated to a small fine, which she had undertaken to pay, and that he would very soon be on his way homewards. The joy of the poor man's family at this intelligence was such as they could not, nor shall I, attempt to express* His -

deliverance was indeed unexpected, because his crime was great: no less than that of having set a gin in his garden, for some cats that used to prey on a single brood of chickens, big only property; which gin had, one night,

y Google

202 THE MAN OF THE WORLD.

wickedly and maliciously hanged a hare, which the baronet's game-keeper next morning discovered in it.

His wife and little ones seemed only to be restrained by the respected presence of their guests, from running out to meet a husband and a father restored to them fronvxaptivity. The ladies observing it, encouraged them in the design ; and having received the good woman's benediction on her knees, they walked out together ; and leaving the happy family on the road to the prison, turned down a winding romantic walk, that followed the mazes of a rill# in an opposite direction.

Lucy, whose eyes had been fixed with respectful attention en her fair companion, ever since her arrival at the cottage, now dropped a tear from each. ' You will not wonder at these tears, madam/ said she, *

when you know that they are my common sign of joy and admiration

; they thank you on behalf of myself and my sex, whose peculiar beauty consists in those gentle virtues you so eminently possess: my

heart feels not only pleasure, but pride, in an instance of female worth so exalted. Though the family in which I live, from some cause unknown to me, have not the happiness of an intercourse with yours, yet your name is familiar to my ear, and carries with it the idea of every amiable and engaging quality.'—* Nor am 1/ returned the other, « a stranger to the name, or the worth, of Miss Sindall, and I reckon myself singujarly fortunate, not only t?

y Google

THB MAN OF tHIE WORLD, 20$

have accidentally made an acquaintance with her, bttt to have made it in that very style, which effectually secures the esteem her character had formerly impressed me with.' f Beneficence, indeed/

replied Lucy, *- is a virtue, of which the possession may entitle to an acquaintance with one to whom that virtue is so particularly known. '

It is no less a pleasure than a duty,' rejoined her companion ; ' but I, Miss Sindall, have an additional incitement to the exercise of it, which/perhaps, as the tongue of curiosity is at one time as busy as its ear is attentive at another, you may ere this have heard' o£ That ancient building, to which the walk we are on will in a few minutes conduct us, was formerly in the possession of one, in whose bosom resided every gentle excellence that'adorns humanity; he, Miss Sindall,—why should I blush to tell it ?—in the sordid calculation of the world, his attachment was not enviable ; the remembrance of it, though it wrings my heart with sorrow, is yet my pride and my delight!

your feelings, Miss Lucy, will understand this—the dear youth left me executrix of that philanthropy which death alone could stop in its course. To discharge this trust, is the business of my life; for I hold myself bound to discharge it.'

They had now reached the end of the walk, where it opened into a little circle surrounded with trees, and fenced by a rail, in front of an antique-looking. house, the gate of which was ornamented with a rudely-sculptured crest, cy

1

20* THK MAV OF THE WORLff.

phered round with the initials of some name, which time had rendered illegible ; but* a few paces before it, was placed a small urn, of modem workmanship, and, on a tablet beneath, was written, TO THE MEMORY OP

WILLIAM HARLEY.

Lucy stepped up to read this inscription;

* Harley !' said she, * how 1 blush to think that I have scarcely ever heard of the name f~

* Alas !* said Miss Walton, * his actions were not of a kind that is loudly talked of: but what is the fame of the world? by him its voice could not now be heard!'—There was an ardent earnestness in her look, even amidst the melancholy with which her countenance was impressed. ' There is a blank at the bottom of the tablet/ said Lucy: her companion smiled gloomily at the observation, and, leaning on the urn in a pensive attitude, replied, * that it should one day be filled up/

They now heard the tread of feet approaching the place: Lucy was somewhat alarmed at the sound; but her fears were removed, when she discovered it to proceed from a venerable old man, who advancing towards them, accosted Miss Walton by her name, who, in her turn, pronounced the word Pejerl in the tone of y Google

THE MAW OF THJE W)»M>. 20$

surprise. She stretched out her hand, which he clasped in his, and looked in her face with a certain piteous wistfulness, while a tear was swelling in his eye. ' My dear lady/ said he,

* I have travelled many a mile since I saw your ladyship last: by God's blessing 1 have sue* ceeded very well in the business your ladyship helped me to set up; and having some dealings with a tradesman in London, I have been as far as that city and back again; and, said I to myself, if I could venture on such a journey for the sake of gain, may I not take a shorter for the sake of thanking my benefactress, and seeing my old friends in the country ? and I had a sort of yerning to be here, to remember good Mrs Margery, and my dear young master. * ■ God forgive me for weeping, for he was too good for this world!'—The tears of Miss Walton and Lucy accompanied his.—* Alacka-day !* continued Peter, * to think how things will come to pass ! thaj there tree was planted by his own sweet hand!—I remember it well# he was then but a boy; I stood behind him, holding the plants in my apron thus:—* Peter,' said he, as he took one to stick it in the ground,

* perhaps i shall not live to see this grow !'— 1 God grant your honour may,' said I, ( when I am dead and gone f and I lifted up the apron to my eyes, for my heart grew big at his words; but he smiled in my face, and said, ' We shall both live, Peter, and that will be best.'

——Ah ! I little thought then, Miss Walton, I little thought f—and he shook his thin grey

Vox.. II. S f

y Google

906 -*HE MAN OF THB WORLD.

locks!—the heart of apathy itself could not have withstood it; Miss Walton's and Lucy's, melting and tender at all times, were quite overcome.

They stood some time silent; Miss Walton at last recollected herself: '

Pardon me, Miss Sindall,' said she, ' I was lost in the indulgence of my grief: let us leave this solemn scene, I have no right to tax you with my sorrows/ ' Call not their participation by that name,'

answered Lucy, ' I know the sacredness of sorrow.; yours are such as strengthen the soul while they melt it.'

CHAP. VI. A CHANGE IN BOLTON'S SITUATION

%JL he reader will pardon the digression I have made ; I would not, willingly, lead him out of his way, except into some path, where his feelings may be expanded, and his heart improved.

He will remember, that I mentioned, in the fourth chapter, the expectation which Bolton entertained, of seeing his Lucy at a period not very remote.

But that period was not destined to arrive so soon. When he expected Sir Thomas's commands, or rather his permission, to visit the family at Bilswood, he received a Letter from that y Google

THE MAN OF THE WORLD. 207

gentleman, purporting, that he had at last been able to put him in the way of attaining that independence he had so often wished for, having just procured him a commission in a regiment then stationed at Gibraltar; that though he* (Sir Thomas), as well as Mrs Selwyn and Lucy, was exceedingly desirous to having an opportunity of bidding him farewell, yet he had prevailed on himself to wave that pleasure, from the consideration of its inconvenience to Harry, as it was absolutely necessary that he should join his regiment immediately. He inclosed letters of introduction to several gentlemen-of his acquaintance in London, remitted him drafts on that place for a considerable sum, to fit hint out for his intended expedition, and begged that he might lose no time in repairing thither for that purpose. He ended with assuring him of the continuance of his friendship, which, he declared, no distance of time or place could alienate or impair.

The effect which this letter had upon Bolton, as he was then circumstanced, my readers can easily imagine. There was another accompanied it—a note from his Lucy : she intended it for comfort, for it assumed the language of consolation ; but the depression of her own spirits was visible, amidst the hopes with which she meant to buoy up those of Bolton.

With this letter for its text, did his imagination run over all the delights of the past, and compare them with the disappointment of the present Yet those tender regrets which the S2

y Google

206 THE MAW Off THE WORLD*

better part of our nature feels, have something in them to blunt the edge of that pain they, inflict, and confer on the votaries of sorrow a sensation that borders on pleasure. He visited the walks which his Lucy had trod, the trees under which he had sat, the prospects they had marked together, and he would not have exchanged his feelings for all that luxury could give, or festivity inspire. Nor did he part with

..the idea after the object was removed; but, even on the road to London, to which place he began his journey next morning, 'twas but pull* ing out his letter again, humming over that little melancholy air which his Lucy had praised, and the scene was present at once. It drew indeed a sigh from his bosom, and an unmanly tear stood in his eye; yet the sigh and the tear were such, that it was impossible to wish it re* moved.

CHAP. VII. HIS ARRIVAL, AND SITUATION IN LONDON.

W hen Bolton reached the metropolis, he applied, without delay, to those persons for whom he had letters from Sir Thomas Sindall, whose instructions the baronet had directed him to follow, in that course of military duty which he had now enabled him to pursue.

In the reception he met with, it is not sur.

y Google

THB MAN OF THE WORLD. 209

prising that he was disappointed* He looked for that cordial friendship, that warm attachment, which is only to be found in the smaller circles of private life, which is lost in the bustle and extended connection of large societies. The letters he presented were read with a civil indifference, and produced the unmeaning pro* fessions of ceremony and politeness. From some of those to whom they were addressed, he had invitations, which he accepted with diffidence, to feasts which he partook with disgust; where he sat, amidst the profusion of ostentatious wealth, surrounded with company he did not know, and listening to discourse in which he was not qualified to join.

A plain honest tradesman, to whom he happened to carry a commission from Mrs Wistanly, was the only person who seemed to take an interest in his welfare. At this man's house he received the welcome of a favoured acquaintance, he eat of the family dinner, and heard the jest which rose for their amusement; for ceremony did not regulate the figure of their table, nor had fashion banished the language of nature from their lips. Under this man's guid? unce, he transacted any little business his situation required, and was frequently conducted by him to those very doors, whose lordly owners received him in that manner, which grandeur thinks itself entitled to assume, and dependence is constrained to endure.

After some days of inquiry and solicitude, he learned, that it was not necessary for him to S3

y Google

£10 THE MAN OT T« WORLD.

join his regiment so speedily as Sir Thomas's letter had induced him to believe.

Upon obtaining this information, he immediately communicated it to the baronet, and signified at the same time, a desire of improving tthat time, which this respite allowed him for his stay in England, in a visit to the femily at Bilswood. But with this purpose his cousin's ideas did not at ail coincide ; he wrote Harry an answer, disapproving entirely his intentions of leaving London, and laid down a plan for his improvement in military science, which could only be followed in the metropolis. Here was another disappointment; but Harry considered it his duty to obey.

What he felt, however, may be gathered from the following letter, which he wrote to Miss Sindall, by the post succeeding that which brought him the instructions of Sir Thomas.

' As I found, soon after my arrival here, that the necessity of joining my regiment immedi* , ately was superseded, I hoped, by this time, to have informed my dearest Lucy, of my intended departure from London, to be onco more restored to her and the country.

' I have suffered the mortification of another disappointment: Sir Thomas's letter is now before me, whieh fixes me here for the winter; I confess the reasonableness of his opinion $ but reason and Sir Thomas cannot feel like Bolton.

1 When we parted last, we flattered ourselves with other prospects; cruel 39 the reflect

y Google

THE MAN OF THB WORLD. 211

is, I feel a sort of pleasure in recalling it; especially when I ventured to believe, that my Lucy has not forgotten our parting.

' To-morrow is Christmas-day; I call to re* membrance our last year's holidays; may these be as happy with you, though I am not to partake them. Write me every particular of these days of jollity; fear not, as your last letter expresses it, tiring me with trifles; nothing is a

trifle in which you are concerned. While I read the account, I will fancy myself at Bilswood: here I will walk forth, an unnoticed thing amidst the busy crowd that surrounds me: your letters give me some interest in myself because they show me that I am something to my Lucy; she is every thing to her

' Bolton/

CHAP. VIII. FILIAL PIETYi

Uolton had a disposition towards society, that did not allow him an indifference about any thing of human form with whom he could have an opportunity of intercourse. He was every one's friend in his heart, till some positive demerit rendered a person unworthy his good-will*

He had not long possessed his lodgings in town, till he «uUirated an acquaintance witb

y Google

2l2 THE MAN Of THB WORLD*

his landlord and landlady; the latter he found to be the representative of the family, from a power of loquacity very much superior to her husband, who seemed to be wonderfully pleased with his wife's conversation, and very happy under what might, not improperly, be termed her government.

To Mrs Terwitt, therefore, (for that was the lady's name), did Bolton address his approaches towards an acquaintance, and from her he had the good fortune to find them meet with a favourable reception: they were so intimate the second week of his residence in the house, that she told him the best part of the transactions of her life, and consulted him upon the disposal of her eldest daughter in marriage, whom a young tradesman, she said, had been in suit of ever since the Easter-holidays preceding. ' We can give her/ added she, '

something handsome enough for a portion; and the old gentleman

above stairs has promised her a present of a hundred pounds on her wedding-day, provided she marries to please him.'

' The gentleman above stairs!' said Bolton ; ' how have I been so unlucky as never to have heard of him before?' * He is not at present in town/ replied the landlady,' * having gone about a fortnight ago to Bath, whence he is not yet returned. Indeed, I fear, his health requires some stay at that place, for he has been but poorly of late; Heaven preserve his life! for he is a good friend of ours, and of many one's e)$e who stand in need of his

y Google

THE MAN OF THX WORLD. 213

friendship. He has an estate, Sir, of a thou* sand pounds a-year, and money besides, as I have been told; yet he chases to live private, as you will see; and spends, I believe, the most of his income in charitable actions,'

*1 did indeed,' said Harry, ' observe a young man come to the door this morning at an early hour, and I heard him ask if the gentleman was returned; but I did not then know that he meant any person who lodged here/ * Ay, sure enough he meant Mr Rawiinson,' said Mrs Terwitt, * and I wish he may not feel his absence much; for he has called here fre* quehtly of late, and, the last time, when he was told of his not being yet returned, Betty observed that the tears gushed from his eyes/ ' 4 When he calls again,' said Bolton, * I beg that I may be informed of it.'

Next morning he heard somebody knock at the door, much about the time he had seen the young man approach it the preceding day: upon going to the window, he observed the same stripling, but his dress was different; he had no coat to cover a thread-bare waistcoat, nor had he any hat. Bolton let the maid know, that he was aware of his being at the door, and resumed his own station at the win* dow.

The youth repeated his enquires after Mr Rawiinson, and, upon

receiving the same answer, cast up tolieaven a look of resignation, and retired.

Bolton slipped down stairs and followed hint; his lodgings were situated near Queen-square;

y Google

£14 THE MAN OT THE WORLD, ,

'the lad took the country-road, and went on without 'stopping till he reached Pan eras church-yard. He stood seemingly entranced, over a new-covered grave at one end of it. Harry placed himself under a cover of a tomb hard by, where he could mark him unperceived.

He held his hands clasped in one another, and the tears began to trickle down his cheeks. Bolton stole from out his hiding place, and approached towards the spot. The poor lad began to speak, as of addressing himself to the dead beneath.

' Thou canst not feel their cruelty; nor shall the winds of winter chill thee, as they do thy wretched son;—inhuman miscreants! but these shall cover thee/—He threw himself on the ground, and spread his arms over the grave, on which he wept.

Bolton stooped down to raise him from the earth; he turned, and gazed on him, with a look wildered and piteous. * Pardon a stranger, young man,* said Bolton, ' who cannot but be interested in your sorrow; he is not entitled to ask its cause, yet his heart swells with the hope of removing it.'—* May Heaven requite you/ replied the stranger, • for your pity to a poor orphan ! Oh! Sir, I have not been used to beg, and even to receive charity is hard upon me; did I mean to move compassion, I have a story to telL—You weep already, Sir!

Jjear me, and judge if I deserve your tears.

* Here lies my father, the only relation

y Google

THE MAN OF THE WORLD. 215

whom misfortune had left to own me; but .Heaven had sent us a friend in that best of men, Mr Rawlinson. He came accidentally to the knowledge of our sufferings, and took on himself the charge of relieving them, which the cruelty of our own connections had abandoned! but, alas! when, by his assistance, my father was put into a way of earning his bread, he was seized with that illnesss of which he died. Some small debts, which his short time in business had not yet allowed him to discharge, were put in suit against him by his creditors. His sickness and death, which, happened a few days ago, did but hasten their proceedings; they seized, Sir, the very covering, of that bed on which his body was laid. Mr Rawlinson was out of town, and I fancy he never received those letters I wrote him to Bath. I had no one from whom to expect .relief; every thing but these rags on my back, X sold to bury the best of fathers; but my little all was not enough ! and the man whom I employed for his funeral, took yesterday, from off jhese clods, the very sod which had covered him, because I had not wherewithal to pay its price.' Bolton fell on his neck, and answered him with his tears.

He covered the dust of the father, and cloathed the nakedness of the son; and, having placed him where it was in his power to make future enquiries after his situation, left him to bless Providence for, the aid it had sent, without knowing the hand through which its y Google

216 .THE MAN OF THE WORX.fi.

•bounty had flowed. That hand, indeed, the. grateful youth pressed to his lips at parting, and begged earnestly to know the name of his benefactor. 'lam a friend,' said Bolton, « of Mr Hawlinson, and humanity/

CHAP. IX.

A VERY ALARMING ACCIDENT; WHICH PROVES THE MEANS

OF BOLTON'S GETTING ACQUAINTED WITH HIS FELLOW.

LODGER.

W hen Bolton returned, in the evening, from those labours of charity he had undertaken, he found that the family were abroad, supping, in a body, with the daughter's lover: the maid set up to wait their home coming; and Bolton, who had more liberty, but much less inclination to sleep, betook himself to meditation.

It was now near midnight, and the hum of Betty's spinning-wheel, which had frequently intermitted before, became entirely silent, when Bokon was alarmed with a very loud knocking of the watchman at the door, and presently a confused assemblage of voices crying out.

' Fire! Fire!' echoed from one end of the street to the other. Upon opening his window, he discovered too plainly the reason of the alarm: the flames were already appearing at the windows of the ground-floor, to which they

y Google

ME MAN OF THE WORLD. 217

bad probably been communicated by the candle, which the maid had burning by her in the kitchen below.

She had now at last awaked, and was running about before the door of the house, wringing her hands, and speaking incoherently to the few who were assembled by the outcry, without having recollection enough to endeavour to save any thing belonging to herself or her master.

Bolton, who had more the possession of his faculties, entreating the assistance of some watchmen, whom the occasion had drawn together, made shift to convey into the street, a few things which he took to be the most valuable ; desiring Betty to be so much mistress of herself, as to keep an eye upon them for her master's benefit.

She continued, however, her broken exclamations of horror and despair, till, at last starting as it were into the remembrance of something forgot, she cried out vehemently, ' Oh! my God ! where is Mr Rawlinson ?'

Bolton caught the horrid meaning of her question, and pushing through the flames which had now taken hold of the staircase, forced his way into the bed chamber occupied by the old gentleman, who had returned from the country that very evening, and, being fatigued with his journey, had gone to bed before his fellow-lodger's arrival at home.