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to retail them at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. Of my colleagues I see as little as possible, tho' when we do meet, I feel an unbounded affection for them. So much for my life, dear Harcourt; on the whole, a very tolerable kind of existence, which if few would envy, still fewer would care to part with.

I now come to the chief portion of your letter. This boy of Glencore's. I rather like the account you give of him, better than you do yourself. Imaginative and dreamy he may be, but remember what he was, and where we have placed him. A moonstruck, romantic youth at a German University. Is it not painting the lily?

"I merely intended he should go to Göttingen to learn the language,always a difficulty if not abstracted from other and more dulcet sounds. I never meant to have him domesticated with some rusty Hochgelehrter, eating sauer kraut in company with a greeneyed Fraulein, and imbibing love and metaphysics together. Let him moon away, as you call it, my dear Harcourt. It is wonderfully little consequence what any one does with his intellect, till he be three or fourand twenty. Indeed, I half suspect that the soil might be left quietly to rear weeds 'till that time, and as to dreaminess it signifies nothing if there be a strong physique. With a weak frame, imagination will play the tyrant, and never cease 'till it dominate over all the other faculties; but where there is strength and activity, there is no fear of this.

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"You amuse me with your account of the doctor; and so the Germans have actually taken him for a savant, and given him a degree honoris causa. May they never make a worse blunder. The man is eminently remarkable, with his opportunities, miraculous. I am certain, Harcourt, you never felt half the pleasure on arriving at a region well stocked with game, that he did on finding himself in a land of Libraries, Museums, and Collections. Fancy the poor fellow's ecstacy at being allowed to range at will through all ancient literature, of which hitherto a stray volume alone had reached him. Imagine his delight as each day opened new stores of knowledge to bim, surrounded as he was by all

that could encourage zeal and reward research. The boy's treatment of him pleases me much, it smacks of the gentle blood in his veins. Poor lad, there is something very sad in his

case.

"You need not have taken such trouble about accounts and expenditure of course, whatever you have done I perfectly approve of. You

say that the boy has no idea of money or its value. There is both good and evil in this; and now as to his future. I should have no objection whatever to having him attached to my Legation here, and, perhaps, no great difficulty in effecting his appointment; but there is a serious obstacle in his position. The young men who figure at embassies and missions are all 'cognate numbers.' They each of them know who and what the other is, whence he came, and so on. our poor boy could not stand this ordeal, nor would it be fair he should be exposed to it. Besides this, it was never Glencore's wish, but the very opposite to it, that he should be brought prominently forward in life. He even suggested one of the Colonies as the means of withdrawing him at once, and for ever, from public gaze.

Now

"You have interested me much by what you say of the boy's progress. His tastes, I infer, lie in the direction which, in a worldly sense, are least profitable; but after all, Harcourt, every one has brains enough, and to spare, for any career. Let us only de

66

cide upon that one most fitted for him, and depend upon it, his faculties will day by day conform to his duties, and his tastes be merely dissipations, just as play or wine is to coarser natures. If you really press the question of his coming to me, I will not refuse, seeing that I can take my own time to consider what steps subsequently should be adopted. How is it that you know nothing of Glencore-can he not be traced?

"Lord Selby, whom you may remember in the Blues formerly, dined here yesterday, and mentioned a communication he had received from his lawyer, with regard to some property in tail; which, if Glencore should leave no heir male, devolved upon him. I tried to find out the whereabouts and the amount of this heritage; but with the admirable indifference that

characterizes him, he did not know

or care.

"As to my Lady, I can give you no information whatever; her house at Florence is uninhabited; the furniture is sold off; but no one seems to guess even whither she has betaken herself. The fast and loose of that pleasant city are, as I hear, actually houseless since her departure. No asylum open there with fire and cigars. A number of the destitute have come down here in half despair, amongst the rest, Scratchly-Major Scratchly, an insupportable nuisance of flat stories and stale gossip; one of those fellows who cannot make even malevolence amusing, and who speak ill of their neighbours without a single spark of wit. He has left three cards upon me, each duly returned; but I am resolved that our interchange of courtesies shall proceed no further.

"I trust I have omitted nothing in reply to your last despatch, except it be to say, that I look for you here about September, or earlier, if as convenient to you; you will, of course, write to me, however, meanwhile.

"Do not mention having heard from me at the clubs or in society. I am, as I have the right to be, on the

sick list, and it is as well my rest should remain undisturbed.

"I wish you had any means of making it known, that the article in the Quarterly, on our Foreign relations, is not mine. The newspapers have coolly assumed me to be the author, and of course I am not going to give them the eclat of a personal denial. The fellow who wrote it must be an ass; since had he known what he pretends, he had never revealed it. He who wants to bag his bird, Colonel, never bangs away at nothing. I have now completed a longer dispatch to you than I intend to address to the Noble Secretary at F. O., and am yours, very faithfully,

"HORACE UPTON.

"Whose Magnesia is it that contains essence of Bark? Tripley's or Chipley's, I think; find it out for me and send me a packet through the office; put up Fauchard's pamphlet with it, on Spain, and a small box of those new blisters, Mouches they are called; they are to be had at Atkinson's. I have got so accustomed to their stimulating power that I never write without one or two on my forehead. They tell me the cautery, if dexterously applied, is better; but I have not tried it."

CHAPTER XXIII.

THE TUTOR AND HIS PUPIL.

WE are not about to follow up the correspondence of Sir Horace, by detailing the reply which Harcourt sent, and all that thereupon ensued between them.

We pass over then some months of time, and arrive at the late autumn.

It is a calm, still morning; the sea, streaked with tinted shadows, is without a ripple; the ships of many nations that float on it are motionless; their white sails hung out to bleach; their ensigns drooping beside the masts. Over the summit of Vesuvius, for we are at Naples, a light blue cloud hangs, the solitary one in all the sky. A mild, plaintive song, the chant of some fishermen on the rocks, is the only sound, save the continuous hum of that vast city, which swells and falls at intervals.

Close beside the sea, seated on a rock, are two figures. One is that of

a youth of some eighteen or nineteen years; his features, eminently handsome, wear an expression of gloomy pride, as in deep pre-occupation he gazes out over the bay; to all seeming, indifferent to the fair scene before him, and wrapped in his own sad thoughts. The other is a short, square-built, almost uncouth figure, overshadowed by a wide straw hat, which seems even to diminish his stature; a suit of black, wide and ample enough for one twice his size, gives something grotesque to an appearance to which his features eontribute their share.

It is, indeed, a strange physiognomy, to which Celt and Calmuc seemed equally to contribute. The low overhanging forehead; the intensely keen eye, sparkling with an almost imp-like drollery, are contrasted by a firmly compressed mouth, and a far-project

ing under jaw, that imply sternness even to cruelty; a mass of waving black hair, that covers neck and shoulders, adds a species of savagery to a head, which assuredly has no need of such aid. Bent down over a large quarto volume, he never lifts his eyes; but, intently occupied, his lips are rapidly repeating the words as he reads them.

66 Do you mean to pass the morning here?" asks the youth at length, "or where shall I find you later on ?"

"I'll do whatever you like best," said the other in a rich brogue, “I'm agreeable to go or stay, ad utram paratus," and Billy Traynor, for it was he, shut up his venerable volume.

"I don't wish to disturb you," said the boy mildly, "you can read." "I cannot; I have a fretful, impatient feeling over me, that, perhaps, will go off with exercise. I'll set out then for a walk, and come back here towards evening, then go and dine at the Rocca, and afterwards whatever you please."

If you say that, then," said Billy, in a voice of evident delight, "we'll finish the day at the Professor Tadeucci's, and get him to go over that analysis again."

"I have no taste for chemistry. It always seems to me to end where it began," said the boy impatiently. "Where do all researches tend to? how are you elevated in intellect? how are your thoughts higher, wider, nobler, by all these mixings and manipulations?"

"Is it nothing to know how thunder and lightning is made? to understand electricity, to dive into the secrets of that old crater there, and see the ingredients in the crucible that was bilin' three thousand years ago?"

"These things appeal more grandly to my imagination, when the mystery of their forces is unrevealed. I like to think of them as dread manifestations of a mighty will, rather than gazeous combinations, or metallic affinities."

"And what prevents you?" said Billy, eagerly, "is the grandeur of the phenomenon impaired, because it is in part intelligible? A'int you elevated as a reasoning being, when you get, what I may call, a peep into God's workshop, rather than by implicitly accepting results just as any old woman accepts a superstition ?"`

"There is something ignoble in mechanism," said the boy angrily.

"Don't say that, while your heart is beatin' and your arteries is contractin'-never say it as long as your lungs dilate or collapse. It's mechanism makes water burst out of the ground, and, swelling into streams, flow as mighty rivers through the earth. It's mechanism raises the sap to the topmost bough of the cedar tree that waves over Lebanon. "Tis the same power moves planets above, just to show us that as there is nothing without a cause-there is one great and final 'Cause' behind all.”

"And will you tell me," said the boy, sneeringly, "that a sunbeam pours more gladness into your heart, because the machinery of a prism has explained to you the composition of light?"

"God's blessings never seemed the less to me, because he taught me the beautiful laws that guide them," said Billy, reverently: every little step that I take out of darkness is on the road, at least, to Him."

In part abashed by the words, in part admonished by the tone of the speaker, the boy was silent for some minutes. "You know, Billy," said he, at length, "that I spoke in no irreverence that I would no more insult your convictions than I would outrage my own. It is simply that it suits my dreamy indolence to like the wonderful better than the intelligible; and you must acknowledge that there never was so palatable a theory for ignorance."

"Aye, but I don't want you to be ignorant," said Billy, earnestly; "and there's no greater mistake than supposing that knowledge is an impediment to the play of fancy. Take my word for it, Master Charles, imagination, no more than any one else, does not work best in the dark."

"I certainly am no adept under such circumstances," said the boy. "I haven't told you what happened me in the studio last night. I went in without a candle, and, trying to grope my way to the table, I overturned the large olive jar, full of clay, against my Niobe, and smashed her to

atoms."

"Smashed Niobe !" cried Billy, in horror.

"In pieces. I stood over her sadder than ever she felt herself, and I

have not had the courage to enter the studio since."

"Come, come let us see if she couldn't be restored," said Billy, rising. "Let us go down there together."

"You may, if you have any fancy -there's the key," said the boy. "I'll return there no more till the rubbish be cleared away," and so saying he moved off, and was soon out of sight.

Deeply grieving over this disaster, Billy Traynor hastened for the spot, but he had only reached the garden of the Chiaja when he heard a faint, weak voice calling him by his name; he turned, and saw Sir Horace Upton, who, seated in a sort of portable armchair, was enjoying the fresh air from the sea.

"Quite a piece of good fortune to meet you, Doctor," said he smiling; "neither you nor your pupil have been near me for ten days or more.'

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""Tis our own loss then, your Excellency," said Billy, bowing; "even a chance few minutes in your company, is like whetting the intellectual razor- I feel myself sharper for the whole day after."

"Then, why not come oftener, man? -are you afraid of wearing the steel all away?"

""Tis more afraid I am of gapping the fine edge of your Excellency, by contact with my own ruggedness," said Billy, obsequiously.

"You were intended for a courtier, Doctor," said Sir Horace smiling.

"If there was such a thing as a court fool now-a-days, I'd look for the place."

"The age is too dull for such a functionary. They'll not find ten men in any country of Europe equal to the office," said Sir Horace. "One has only to see how lamentably dull are the journals dedicated to wit and drollery to admit this fact; though written by many hands-how rare it is to chance upon what provokes a laugh. You'll have fifty metaphysicians anywhere before you'll hit on one Moliere. Will you kindly open

that umbrella for me. This autumnal sun, they say, gives sun-stroke. And now what do you think of this boy he'll not make a diplomatist, that's clear?"

"He'll not make anything-just for one simple reason, because he could be whatever he pleased."

"An intellectual spendthrift," sighed Sir Horace. "What a hopeless bankruptcy it leads to."

"My notion is 'twould be spoiling him entirely to teach him a trade or a profession. Let his great faculties shoot up without being trimmed or trained-don't want to twist or twine or turn them at all, but just see whether he won't, out of his uncurbed nature, do better than all our discipline could effect. There's no better colt than the one that was never backed till he was a five-year old."

"He ought to have a career," said Sir Horace thoughtfully. 66 Every man ought to have a calling, if only that he may be able to abandon it." "Just as a sailor has a point of departure," said Billy.

"Precisely," said Sir Horace, pleased at being so well appreciated.

"You are aware, Doctor," resumed he, after a pause, "that the lad will have little or no private fortune. There are family circumstances that I cannot enter into, nor would your own delicacy require it, that will leave him almost entirely dependent on his own efforts. Now, as time is rolling over, we should bethink us what direction it were wisest to give his talents for he has talents.'

"He has genius and talents both," said Billy; he has the raw material and the workshop to manufacture it."

"I am rejoiced to hear such an account from one so well able to pronounce," said Sir Horace, blandly; and Billy bowed, and blushed with a sense of happiness that none but humble men, so praised, could ever feel.

"I should like much to hear what you would advise for him," said Upton.

"He's so full of promise," said Billy, "that whatever he takes to I'll be sure to fancy he'd be better at something else. See now-it isn't a bull I'm sayin', but I'll make a blunder of it if I try to explain."

"Go on, I think I apprehend you."

"By coorse you do. Well, it's that same feelin' makes me cautious of sayin' what he ought to do. For, after all, a variety of capacity implies discursiveness, and discursiveness is the mother of failure."

"You speak like an oracle, Doc

tor."

"If I do it's because the priest is beside me," said Billy, bowing. "My notion is this, I'd let him cultivate his fine gifts for a year or two, in any way he liked-in work or idleness-for they'll grow in the fallow as well as in the tilled land. I'd let him be whatever he liked striving always, as he's sure to be striving, after something higher, and greater, and better than he'll ever reach; and then when he has felt both his strength and his weakness, I'd try and attach him to some great man in public life; set a grand ambition before him, and say, 'Go on."

"He's scarcely the stuff for public life," muttered Sir Horace.

"He is," said Billy, boldly. "He'd be easily abashed-casily deterred by failure."

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"Sorra bit. Success might cloy, but failure would never damp him." I can't fancy him a speaker." "Rouse him by a strong theme and a flat contradiction, and you'll see what he can do."

"And then his lounging, idle habits"

"He'll do more in two hours than any one else in two days."

"You are a warm admirer, my dear Doctor," said Sir Horace, smiling blandly. "I should almost rather have such a friend than the qualities that win the friendship. Have you a message for me, Antoine ?" said he to a servant who stood at a little distance, waiting the order to approach. The man came forward, and whispered a few words.

Sir Horace's cheek gave a faint--the very faintest possible sign of flushas he listened, and uttering a brief, "Very well," dismissed the messenger.

"Will you give me your arm, Doetor?" said he languidly; and the elgant Sir Horace Upton passed down the crowded promenade leaning on his uncouth companion, without the slightest consciousness of the surprize and sarcasm around him. No man more thoroughly could appreciate conventionalities; he would weigh the effect of appearances to the veriest nicety; but in practice he seemed either to forget his knowledge or despise it. So that as leaning on the little dwarf's arm he moved along, his very air of fashionable languor seemed to heighten the absurdity of the contrast. Nay, he actually seemed to bestow an almost deferential attention to what the other saidbowing blandly his acquiescence, and smiling with an urbanity all

his own.

Of the crowd that passed, nearly all knew the English minister. Uncovered heads were bent obsequiously; graceful salutations met him as he went-while a hundred conjectures ran as to who and what might be his companion.

He was a mesmeric professor, a writer in cypher, a Rabbi, an Egyp tian explorer, an alchymist, an African traveller, and at last, Mons. Thiers--and so the fine world of Naples discussed the humble individual, whom you and I, dear reader, are acquainted with as Billy Traynor.

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On the evening of that day, the handsome salons of the great Hotel Universo were filled with a brilliant assemblage, to compliment the Princess Sabloukoff on her arrival. We have already introduced this lady to the reader, and have no need to explain the homage and attention of which she was the object. There is nothing which so perfectly illustrates the maxim of "ignotum pro magnifico" as the career of politics; certain individuals obtaining, as they do, a pre-eminence and authority from a species of mysterious prestige about them, and a

reputation of having access at any moment to the highest personage in the world of state affairs. Doubtless great ministers are occasionally not sorry to see the public full cry on a false scent, and encourage to a certain extent this mystification; but still it would be an error to deny to such persons as we speak of a knowledge, if not actually an influence, in great affairs.

When the Swedish Chancellor uttered his celebrated sarcasm on the governing capacities of Europe, the political Salon, as a state engine,

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