CHAPTER XXXIV.

An old worshipful gentleman, that had a great estate,

And kept a brave old house at a hospitable rate.

--Old Song.

I think I may, without much loss to the reader, pass in silence over my

voyage, the next day, to Dover. (Horrible reminiscence!) I may also spare

him an exact detail of all the inns and impositions between that sea-port

and London; nor will it be absolutely necessary to the plot of this

history, to linger over every mile-stone between the metropolis and

Glenmorris Castle, where my uncle and my mother were impatiently awaiting

the arrival of the candidate to be.

It was a fine bright evening when my carriage entered the park. I had not

seen the place for years; and I felt my heart swell with something like

family pride, as I gazed on the magnificent extent of hill and plain that

opened upon me, as I passed the ancient and ivy-covered lodge. Large

groups of trees, scattered on either side, seemed, in their own

antiquity, the witness of that of the family which had given them

existence. The sun set on the waters which lay gathered in a lake at the

foot of the hill, breaking the waves into unnumbered sapphires, and

tinging the dark firs that overspread the margin, with a rich and golden

light, that put me excessively in mind of the Duke of--'s livery.

When I descended at the gate, the servants, who stood arranged in an

order so long that it almost startled me, received me with a visible

gladness and animation, which shewed me, at one glance, the old fashioned

tastes of their master. Who, in these days, ever inspires his servants

with a single sentiment of regard or interest for himself or his whole

race? That tribe one never, indeed, considers as possessing a life

separate from their services to us: beyond that purpose of existence, we

know not even if they exist. As Providence made the stars for the benefit

of earth, so it made servants for the use of gentlemen; and, as neither

stars nor servants appear except when we want them, so I suppose they are

in a sort of suspense from being, except at those important and happy

moments.

To return--for if I have any fault, it is too great a love for abstruse

speculation and reflection--I was formally ushered through a great hall,

hung round with huge antlers and rusty armour, through a lesser one,

supported by large stone columns, and without any other adornment than

the arms of the family; then through an anti-room, covered with tapestry,

representing the gallantries of King Solomon to the Queen of Sheba; and

lastly, into the apartment honoured by the august presence of Lord

Glenmorris. That personage was dividing the sofa with three spaniels and

a setter; he rose hastily when I was announced, and then checking the

first impulse which hurried him, perhaps, into an unseemly warmth of

salutation, held out his hand with a pompous air of kindly protection,

and while he pressed mine, surveyed me from head to foot to see how far

my appearance justified his condescension.

Having, at last, satisfied himself, he proceeded to inquire after the

state of my appetite. He smiled benignantly when I confessed that I was

excessively well prepared to testify its capacities (the first idea of

all kind-hearted, old-fashioned people, is to stuff you), and, silently

motioning to the grey-headed servant who stood in attendance, till

receiving the expected sign, he withdrew, Lord Glenmorris informed me

that dinner was over for every one but myself, that for me it would be

prepared in an instant, that Mr. Toolington had expired four days since,

that my mother was, at that moment, canvassing for me, and that my own

electioneering qualities were to open their exhibition with the following

day.

After this communication there was a short pause. "What a beautiful place

this is!" said I, with great enthusiasm. Lord Glenmorris was pleased with

the compliment, simple as it was.

"Yes," said he, "it is, and I have made it still more so than you have

yet been able to perceive."

"You have been planting, probably, on the other side of the park?"

"No," said my uncle, smiling; "Nature had done every thing for this spot

when I came to it, but one, and the addition of that one ornament is the

only real triumph which art ever can achieve."

"What is it?" asked I; "oh, I know--water."

"You are mistaken," answered Lord Glenmorris; "it is the ornament of--

happy faces."

I looked up to my uncle's countenance in sudden surprise. I cannot

explain how I was struck with the expression which it wore: so calmly

bright and open!--it was as if the very daylight had settled there.

"You don't understand this at present, Henry," said he, after a moment's

silence; "but you will find it, of all rules for the improvement of

property, the easiest to learn. Enough of this now. Were you not au

desespoir at leaving Paris?"

"I should have been, some months ago; but when I received my mother's

summons, I found the temptations of the continent very light in

comparison with those held out to me here."

"What, have you already arrived at that great epoch, when vanity casts

off its first skin, and ambition succeeds to pleasure? Why--but thank

Heaven that you have lost my moral--your dinner is announced."

Most devoutly did I thank Heaven, and most earnestly did I betake myself

to do honour to my uncle's hospitality.

I had just finished my repast, when my mother entered. She was, as you

might well expect from her maternal affection, quite overpowered with

joy, first, at finding my hair grown so much darker, and, secondly, at my

looking so well. We spent the whole evening in discussing the great

business for which I had been summoned. Lord Glenmorris promised me

money, and my mother advice; and I, in my turn, enchanted them, by

promising to make the best use of both.

Pelham — Volume 03 · 第 5 / 14 章