was too much self-absorbed to think about them. At the same time he complained of fatigue, said the roads were execrable, and the weather hot.

Now the roads had been very good, and the weather temperate. His housekeeper, a respectable woman who had lived with his mother, and with whom he usually interchanged a few words of kindness on his arrival at home, lingered behind the rest. "I have no orders for you, Watson," he said, "but that dinner should be served at eight." The housekeeper slowly moved off, wondering, if not hurt, at the reserve of a master, whose affability had always been uniform to his servants, and flattering to herself.

"And how to pass the time till then?" continued he to himself; "how to find here what London cannot afford?" (and he paced the room in serious musing ;) "these are questions after all: yes! after all, not easily settled. Yet serenity" (throwing up the sash, which opened upon a 'diversified country) "seems to live in these woods; and equally " (turning to the interior of the apartment)" in these rooms.”

The pictures of his grand and great-grandfathers, their wives, and a train of uncles and aunts,-some in hunting coats, with dogs and fowling-pieces, some in full suits of velvet, some with distaffs, and some with crooks, -caught his eye as he said this. They seemed all to partake of the general quiet. All the little cares and vexations of life were over with them; if indeed they had ever had any; so composed was their air, and so placidly did they appear to look upon their descendant. "After life's fitful fever, they sleep well!'' "said Tremaine, as he moved slowly along, and contemplated them one after the other. "Without dying, I will endeavour to do so too: and here will be the best chance for it. And yet," continued he, after a pause, and returning to the prospect, "there are not wanting persons who think woods and fields dulness, and a palace in the country a prison."

He paused again, but added, "thank God! I am not of that opinion: on the contrary, it is the world

that is dull and uninteresting: or where it is otherwise, only so because it is wrangling, knavish, and false."

The thought did not please. "Here, however," he went on, "I can retire into myself-here keep the designing, the treacherous, and the vulgar, all at an equal distance." At this he threw himself on a sofa, and a profound reverie seemed gradually to subside into a doze of several minutes; so that, in figure at least, though not in placidity, he gave one the idea of that happy prelate, who

Muni d'un déjeuner,

Dormant d'un léger somme, attendoit le dîner.*

But no! it was not un léger somme. He had, in fact, dozed almost the whole way from London; having scarcely opened his eyes to the prospects he had passed through, though the harvest, in all the pride of ripeness, had courted him to cheerfulness.

In truth, he had not felt his interest awakened during a single mile of the journey; a fault perhaps owing to the necessity he had imposed upon himself, of getting to Belmont as fast as the horses could carry him.

"No!"

He continued on his couch for some minutes, when his valet entered, and asked if he would dress. was the reply (as a sort of sigh escaped him), "there is nothing here, I apprehend, worth dressing for." The interruption, however, roused him. I will go," said he, "to the library."

It was a very magnificent room, and had lately received a considerable accession from an expensive new purchase, which had been ranged in the modern taste by a fashionable architect. He was charmed with the effect, and throwing himself into a reading chair of exquisite invention, "I will here," said he, pass the greatest part of my time; the treasures of science are at my command, and he who has them, has every thing. How flat and unprofitable would seem this same world, which we all of us so strangely court, if man but knew his own

66

* Lutrin.

nature, and could live up to its dignity. But to do this he must do as I have done ;-retire from the forwardness of upstart impertinence, or the caprice of those whom we may have most loved and trusted."

A volume of Shaftesbury lying open before him, he looked over its pompous engravings and classical emblems-representations of his Lordship's library, and of his Lordship's self. "He was an elegant man," said Tremaine, turning over the pages, "and a real philosopher; and if he did not discover truth, he at least detected falsehood. I shall delight, like him, to appreciate the value of things, and view the world at a distance; and shall be able to do so more exactly now than when plunged in its tumults. I, too, may not discover truth; but at least I shall have leisure to make the attempt. I am impatient to begin."

The sight of a distant temple of his own rearing, in a beautiful wood, here caught his eye. It reflected the rays of the setting sun, and the whole prospect was burnished with splendour. He was pleased with the effect; and it gave an additional complacency to his brow as he viewed, from a favourable point, this work of his own taste. "Here," continued he, "Philosophy may really be exercised, and Contemplation prune her wings."

Hic gelidi fontes, hic mollia prata,

Hic nemus.

He went on planning in his own mind hours of enjoyment, in a place dedicated, as it should seem, to wisdom and happiness. His temple recalled ancient Greece to his mind, and the groves of Academus rose to his view. "How different," exclaimed he, "from a trifling or slippery world, where all is vulgarity, envy, or ennui."

A servant now announced dinner, a summons for which, with all his philosophy, he secretly craved: so that a minute more found him seated at table.

His repast was recherche in the extreme; yet his senses were not pleased, and his palate scarcely excited. Every thing was ill-seasoned, and either too much or too

little done. In fact, notwithstanding his craving, he had either waited too long, or was not hungry. In fact, too, however strange it may seem, although he had now come sixty miles to be alone, he was almost surprised, and to a cursory observer might have appeared not pleased, to find exactly what he came for. His dinner forced upon his memory (involuntarily, indeed, but not the less strongly) the companions of his banquets in London; and the conversation, the interchange of idea, the lively sallies of polite fellowship, were thought of at least, though not (he said) with regret: on the contrary, as he poured out a bumper of Burgundy, he indulged again in a mental soliloquy upon the delights of solitude, and the unfitness of a man to live who could not live alone.

"The world," said he, " is so entirely, even in its banquets, a mere vulgar crowd, that the true play of mind is seldom indulged. How different is the noisy contest for pre-eminence in conversation-the impatience of interruption-the struggle for wit that will not comefrom this calm and happy repast! It is in solitary reflection alone that we feel ourselves men; and that is the best feast which least interferes with it. Let others bear the burthen of the world! I view it at a distance."

These reflections were diluted with more Burgundy; though neither that, nor any French wine, agreed with his constitution: an inconvenience, however, which he never would allow. As for Port, and all Spanish vintages, they were nothing but liquid fire, and had long. been made to yield to this more elegant beverage; to carry off which, it was only necessary to throw in a little coffee; which he now drank in its quintessence, fuming from a silver lamp on the table, while he crowned it with no inconsiderable quantity of liqueur. This, together with having, without appetite, tasted of almost every dish before him, made him at midnight feel heated and uneasy, and he retired to a bed of down, where, not having subdued his body with any fatigue, he was surprised to find that he could not sleep.

CHAPTER II.

RETROSPECTIVE HISTORY OF A MAN OF REFINEMENT.

The Courtier's, Soldier's, Scholar's eye, tongue, sword.

SHAKSPEARE.

THUS passed the evening of the arrival of Tremaine at his retirement; that retirement which he had so sighed for, amidst many a scene of tumult and vexation in the world, where he had taken a lead. It is true, he thought of it most when least successful in any object he might be pursuing. But still his mind dwelt often with genuine pleasure on the charms of tranquillity, and the usefulness, the independence, and even the necessity of frequent seclusion. Accordingly, at Court, in the Senate, or in the heat and crowd of assemblies, particularly when things went ill, he always consoled himself with the notions of that happy life, which, in a philosophical retreat, and with unbounded leisure, he was sure of commanding. His friends, indeed, told him (and he was not displeased at the liberty), that he had yet no right to such an indulgence; that the world still wanted him, either to oppose the most corrupt of administrations,* or to become a minister himself. But, in reply, he used to say that he must live for himself, as well as his country; and that it was in the meridian, not in the wane of life, that man could best assert the dignity of retreat. He was fond, on these occasions, of quoting the philosophic Temple, of whom it had been said by Hume, "that he was a man whom philosophy had taught to despise the world without rendering him unfit for it." He would dwell, too, upon that exclamation of King Charles II. when he found Sir William too restless to

*The administration of the time being is always the most corrupt of administrations.