Autumn, 431. Do You Remember? By C. A. M. W., 393. Home Teachings. By Mrs. C. Tinsley, 416. How do Friends Part? By Mrs. Edward Thomas, 363. Invisible Ink. By Mrs. Abdy, 362. Love in a Grotto. By Mrs. Abdy, 303. Mary, 136. O World! Thy Slippery Turns. By Mrs. Edward Thomas, 289. October, 266. Sonnet. By Mrs. Abdy, 135. Specimens of American Poetry, 182. Song of a Lover, 417. The Child of Heaven, 64. The Almond Branch, (from the French of M. Lamartine), 86. To Helen. By J. E. Ritchie, 108. The Ruins of Persepolis. By Nicholas Mitchell, 144. The Sorrowful Nyctanthes. By Mrs. Edward Thomas, 22. The Soldier's Burial. By Mrs. Crawford, 227. The Maiden's Burial. By C. A. M. W., 288. The Dirge of Summer. By W. Dodsworth, Esq., 349. The Last Banquet at Persepolis. By N. Mitchell, 384. Wine Song, (from the German), 51. LITERATURE. Adrian: a Tragedy in Five Acts, 109. Defects in the Practice of Life Assurance, 228. Hours of Recreation, 109. Pharoah: a Dramatic Poem. By the Rev. S. Spink, 109. THE METROPOLITAN MAGAZINE. SWISSIANA. CHAPTER III.* Joseph's Narrative. IN me, expect no longer to find the man who parted from you, four years ago, full of present joys and bright anticipations for the future; since then, my life has been so chequered, that when I look back upon its events, I can scarcely believe the interval so short. My foreign mode of dress and, maybe, foreign appearance sufficiently indicate that I have not followed up the profession I had been bred for, namely, that of a clergyman, but that I must have spent no inconsiderable portion of my time abroad. If you can have patience to hear the relation my fortunes, you may perhaps find in them some interest; to a stranger they could be of none, but you, I flatter myself, are still my old college chum. You will remember a large mansion in the park which ran * Continued from page 356, vol. lii. September, 1848.-VOL. LIII.-NO. CCIX. B parallel to my father's garden, with the trout stream intervening. It commanded more than ordinary attention from the singularity of its architecture, which could scarcely be applied to any age, yet the exquisite taste with which its approaches and garden walks were laid out pleased, while it struck the eye of the traveller. The owner, it was manifest, must be a man of refinement; if not quite classical, his taste was far from vulgar, and never extravagant. The lord of this property was, in fact, a man of talent and discernment-a great patron of science, and lavish in his expenditure upon all connected with art. He was unmarried. His father had died but lately, leaving him the whole of his wealth; he had no other relation in the world with whom to share it. Little was known either of the character or previous life of Lord Welwyn. Indeed, at the time I now speak of, he was on his first visit to his patrimonial estate. It was said that he had spent his youth in foreign parts, where he had no doubt acquired that taste for the beautiful which he seemed so desirous of expending upon the adornment of his mansion for several skilful men were then engaged with that task, under his personal superintendence. While this work was in progress, he devoted himself entirely to its prosecution, seldom absenting himself even for a day, and visiting none of the neighbouring gentry. This last was impolitic enough, as it raised jealousy. Then scandal was not slow to spread all sorts of curious tales concerning himself and household. My time, however, was too fully occupied to spare attention for scandals, even had my disposition desired it. On quitting college, where, as you will remember, I took my degree, I repaired at once to my father's abode, while awaiting my appointment to some living, which I hoped either by interest or merit soon to obtain. Here my studies were great. And they were not fruitless. I gained a complete knowledge of theology, the classics, French and Italian. I was indeed a complete bookworm, yet, my propensities in this respect led not to bookworm habits. I loved to ramble over the adjacent country, to contemplate nature as she appeared in her different guises, to stray along the banks of the trout stream, to roam about the forestpark of Welwyn. My studies, too, suffered no interruption from this, for my book was still my companion, as it was in my closet at home. At the foot of an oak, the pride of Welwyn forest, I was reclining one lovely July day, and attentively engaged in reading, when a footstep struck upon my ear, and raising my eyes, I found a gentleman walking towards me, up one of the avenues. He carried a gun, and a fine setter followed him. I had no difficulty in recognising in his haughty step and bearing, the young Lord Welwyn, so rising from the ground I shut my book, placed it in my pocket, and was about to go forward to meet him, when he motioned me to remain where I was. "You will excuse the interruption I give to your studies, sir,' said he, "but the sight of one of your acquirements, Mr. Long, induced me, when passing at the foot of yon glade on my way to the sport, to step aside and request an acquaintance with you." I bowed. He extended his hand, and I returned his grasp with pleasure. "And now, sir, I will pursue my way, as I see that your author is peeping from your pocket, as much as to say that he is jealous of my presence and wishes me gone. But before, I have one request to make of you." "And it is?" "That you will favour me with your company to dinner this evening. Nay, I can take no denial," added he, smiling, as I hesitated; "I will be quite alone, and I may tell you that you are the first whom the table of Welwyn Hall has seen, since I came into possession of it. We dine at four. Seven, I know, is your English fashion, but I hate it, and like an evening such as we have on the continent. Meantime-au revoir !” To tell the truth, I felt little inclined to accept of this invitation, the more so from the authoritative tone in which it was couched; but, when I reached home and told my father, he patted me on the back, and said : "That's well, Joseph-your college days I see have not been wholly useless. Always cultivate the acquaintance of those in society above you, and you'll never stick in the world. Who knows but the same Lord Welwyn has a living in store for you, and then who knows but he has influence at court, among the cloth-ay, I've heard it so whispered-and who knows but he may get you to be a bishop some day; in fact, there's no saying the good which cultivating the acquaintance of great folks brings one-no wonder it's so general in the land! My father's entreaty prevailed, and I departed for Welwyn Hall at the hour appointed. When I entered, Lord Welwyn advanced and received me with the greatest cordiality. I felt reassured, and began to admire the view which was discernible from the window. In this, however, he did not agree with me. He said the park and country were well enough, but the terraces were faulty and antiquated, and he shewed me the alteration he intended making. "But come," said he, "the dinner is ready, and we shall have time enough to discuss these matters in the evening, and when we have discussed something more substantial.” He led me across the hall, and we entered a spacious saloon. Seated at the head of the table, and already engaged in eating, was an old gentleman, who paid no attention to our entrance, but went on as before. We sat down, and the courses began in silence. When the first was through, Lord Welwyn said to me: "This is not very entertaining, however. I am so accustomed to dine alone, that silence and my own thoughts are my sole companions, and I quite forgot your presence." You may be sure I took this as no compliment to myself, his guest! "We will arouse our intellectual friend here, who I see has finished his soup, and get him to join us. I will introduce you to him." So saying, he took a crumb of bread, rolled it into a pellet, and shot it with his finger and thumb across the table. It hit the old gentleman's nose. The servants, I may add, were present and witnessed this familiarity, which I suppose was of daily occurrence, as the old gentleman quietly ordered his dish to be taken away, before he answered the summons. He then wiped his moustaches with a napkin, and demanded in Italian:"Cosa c'è?" "A gentleman is present, do you not observe?" Then turning to me, Lord Welwyn added, "allow me to introduce you to the Signor Bartolommeo." The signor bowed, and soon after left the room. When the cloth had been removed, one of the servants opened the windows, which led out upon a terrace, and placed there a small table with wine and fruits. When we had seated ourselves there, "This," said he, "is how I like to have an evening. Will you try a cigar?" and he handed me one. We had not been seated long, when a strain of melody shot across my ear. I discovered it to proceed from the house wherein we were. It was a duet, sung by a soprano and basso. My ear had always been particularly fine, so I enjoyed the delightful concert which was close at hand. When it had ended, I turned to my host an enquiring look. "The signor and his pupil." "Then Bartolommeo is a musician?" "He is a composer, and an illustrious one-at least, so he esteems himself. You have probably not heard of his name as one before?" "I have not." "If you have done with your wine, we will adjourn to the drawing room and be nearer the singers." As we crossed the hall, the music became more distinct. |