L I B R.AFLY OF THE UNIVERSITY Of ILLINOIS V /^ ADAM BROWN, THE MERCHANT. AUTHOR OF BRAMBLETYE HOUSE, &c. IN THREE VOLUMES. " When novelty's the rage, and love of change, And things are doated on because they're strange, How shall he fare whose unaspiring hack Jogs on the broadway and the beaten track, Leaps o'er no moral fence, nor dares to prance In the wild regions of untried romance V* Chabt.es Mooee. VOLUME T. LONDON: HENRY COLBURN, PUBLISHER, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET. 1843. LONDON : Printed by William Clowes and Sons, Stamford Street. 5a 1 ADAM BEOWK CHAPTER I. i Though the village of Woodcote, situated "^ at the foot of the Cotswold Hills in Glouces- i^tershire, could lay no claim to picturesque ^i beauty, there was in its immediate vicinity Jone object which might interest a traveller, especially if he happened to be an antiqua- >> rian. This was the Manor-House, at a short ^^istance from the village, on the road to ^ Charlton Abbots. Originally a monastic l4)uilding of considerable extent, it presented ^ the usual incongruous aspect of such edifices i when they have been partly pulled down, ^ and partly rebuilt, and patched, and altered ^by successive owners, each more solicitous VOL. I. B 9 *Z ADAM BROWN. of adopting modern conveniences and im- provements than of conforming to the anti- quated style of the original building. ' The rambling structure bewildered the eye by a succession of varying gables, some originally decorated by projecting frames of richly carved oak, surmounted by crotcheted pinnacles crowned with a cross, most of which enrichments had crumbled away, or suffered defacement, from the corrosions of time. Even the monster-faced stone corbels, on which the woodwork had once rested, had lost some portion of their grim ugliness, their abraded and discoloured features now inspiring compassion rather than aversion, especially when the rain, escaping from the decayed spouts, fell like tear-drops from their furrowed faces. A large Gothic window with heavy stone mullions branching into trefoil and quatre- foil divisions, which had once given light to the refectory, imparted to the principal gable an air of dignity but ill supported by its neighbours, whose projecting latticed casements, receding loopholes, or flat modern ADAM BROWN. d windows, peered forth from the massive walls with a comparative meanness. Above the centre of the steep ponderous roof stood, or rather tottered, the remains of a wooden belfry, a portion of which had either crum- bled to decay, or had been blown down in some unremembered storm. The spacious fish-ponds of the garden, which had once supplied piscatory delicacies to the monks during Lent, and probably at all other times, had been long filled up ; though the old brickwork of their margins was still visible. A sun-dial, minus the brass plate and gno- mon, retained its place between them ; and a colossal pigeon-house of stone, spite of its man- nifest dilapidation, looked as if it would defy the final assaults of time for ages yet to come. Around the whole domain, which was of con- siderable extent, ran a massive wall of rough stones, fortified at regular intervals by solid buttresses. After the death of its last occupant (a certain Lady Mayhew), the right to this vene- rable mansion had been contested by two claimants, by whose disputes the property B 2 4 ADAM BROWN. was ultimately thrown into Chancery, and, in spite of the sneers and sarcasms which have associated that court with the notion of an almost interminable delay, candour compels us to admit that the process in question did not extend much beyond the term of nine- teen years. In vindication of its decisions, we must also record that, although a verdict was given in favour of the wrong party, the fortunate gainer of the suit, who had previ- ously been in good circumstances, was com- pletely ruined by its expense, so that there was a species of retributive justice even in its erroneous judgment. The impoverished owner of the Manor- House now offered it for sale ; but, as it had assumed, from neglect during the litigation, a most forlorn and desolate appearance, no purchaser had appeared until about three weeks previous to the commencement of our history; when it had been bought, not with- out much sharp and strenuous haggling, by Adam Brown, a retired merchant, who, after giving orders for the hasty preparation of such apartments as he meant immediately ADAM BROWN. 5 to occupy, was expected to arrive and take possession of his new property on the after- noon which we are proceeding to describe. Towards the latter end of autumn, the breezes which had tempered the heat of a sultry day had subsided into a dead calm ; the setting sun, shooting its rays in the direc- tion of the Cheltenham high road, imparted an appearance of fiery smoke to the dust thrown up by a flock of sheep wending to their fold ; the tops of the Cotswold Hills, burnished by the rays, shone out distinctly against the sky, while their lower ranges al- ready began to be wreathed with ascending vapours; crows were making their heavy way back to the Manor-House rookery; horses and labourers were plodding wearily home from plough; cows, indolently whisk- ing off the flies, were dawdling to their homestead ; not a cloud moved above, not a leaf below ; it seemed as if the sky and the earth, exhausted by the fervours of the day, languidly awaited its decline, that they might enjoy the cool repose of night. From this general air of drowsy tranquil- 6 ADAM BROWN. lit}^ we must specially except that portion of the villao;e which was in the immediate vicinity of the Green Man public-house and the bridge. Here there was an unusual assemblage of people, all animated by a rare curiosity and excitement, for on this spot- a bonfire had been prepared to celebrate the arrival of the new Squire (as they termed the purchaser of the Manor-House), and here had a majority of the inhabitants been already waiting upwards of two hours, that they might have the first sight of the stranger and his equipage, and testif}^ their respect for a village patron who was reported to be yery wealthy, and who could hardly fail to benefit them by the large expenditure which his residence would occasion. Their impa- tience and eager anticipation had already led to one awkward mistake, for Jem Harris, an urchin stationed in the elm-tree that fronted the public-house, with orders to wave a flag as a signal to the bell-ringers at the church, mistook the dust of John Chubbs's market cart for that of the Squire's carriage, and by a hasty flourish of his flag occasioned a pre- ADAM BROWN. / mature peal to be struck up, — an error of judgment for which he was rewarded with shouts of ironical laughter and a few indig- nant peltings from his fellow-playmates, in- termixed with sarcastic inquiries of — '' Who took old Chubbs's cart for the Squire's coach?" an unnecessary question, to which the sulky delinquent scorned to give any reply. " Well," said the village butcher, spinning his steel into the air, and expertly catching it as it descended, " he don't mean to keep sheep I larn for sartain, so I shall have the killing of his mutton, — that's one comfort." " And they do say," added a half-starved barber, " that he wears a wig, which must be titivated now and then, — that's another good thing." " Sure he won't think of brewing his own beer ?" said the brewer : *' the vat up at the old Manor-House be all to pieces, and the mash- ing- tub too." But the speaker forgot to add that this piece of mischief was his own covert handiwork. " The Squire '11 have good eyes," wheezed 8 ADAM BROWN. a fat laundress, " if he do find any washing- tubs fit for use :" a safe averment ; for the worthy dame and her husband had purloined and fresh painted the best of them, on the plea that " what was in Chancery was every- body's right, and didn't belong to nobody." " I warrant the Squire will bring down a smart young valet, and perhaps a couple of grooms," simpered the red-armed, fair-haired daughter of the last speaker. " Well, minx, and what if he do ?" sharp- ly retorted the mother. " D'ye think them fine Lunnuners will have anything to say to the likes of you ? Go home to your ironing, hussy !" " La, mother, how cross you be !" muttered the wench, making a show of obeying the mandate, though she presently returned, and ensconced herself behind a tree, where she could see and not be seen. " I say, Master AYaghorn," hiccoughed fat Sam Belcher, as he finished his pot of porter, " don't ye think the Squire '11 stop at the Half-way House, just to take a snack of bread and cheese and inguns, and a glass o' purl? I know I should." ADAM BROWN. 9 " The Half-way House !" replied the in- dignant Boniface ; " I should like to know what decent body, let alone a Squire and a rich man, would stop at such a low place as that ! Like enough he may pull up at the Green Man. Hei^e he wouldn't be pisoned at all events." " I be glad o' the Squire's coming," growl- ed the blacksmith, " acause I shall have the shoeing of his horses ; and I dare say they'll want it often enough, if so be that the coach- man and I be good friends. 'Taint on that account, for I baint selfish, not a bit on't ; but acause his coming will sarve to keep the whole village alive like." " And I baint no more selfish nor others," coughed the grave-digger ; " but as to keep- ing the whole village alive — od's heart, Master Blow-bellows, sure they live long enough as it is. Devil a grave have I had the digging on for these three months." " Here he comes ! here becomes !" shout- ed a dozen eager voices at once, as dust was seen to arise at some distance along the road ; but their expectations were quickly checked B 3 10 ADAM BROWN. by the boy in the tree calling out, " Hold your jabber, can't ye? it's old white-faced Dobbin, and the doctor's one-horsed chay." " He a doctor ! " muttered the grave-dig- ger, with a scornful air ; " we might as well have never a doctor at all, for he don't ever set the bell a tolling, at least hardly any to speak on. One has no luck now-a-days. There's no fever nor no influenzy a going on these hard times." Leaving this rural conclave to pursue their speculations in the same disinterested spirit, we must advance a little along the Chelten- ham road, and give our readers a short and hasty introduction to the party whose ex- pected arrival had excited so profound a sen- sation at Woodcote. To adopt the style of the Newgate Calendar, — though we have a very different character to describe, — we will commence by stating that Adam Brown " was born of poor but honest parents in the parish of Woodcote," a fact which accounts for his selecting the Manor-House, deserted as it had long been, for his final place of residence. After passing through the sue- ADAM BROWN. 11 cessive stages of a druggist's apprentice, a supercargo, and a merchant's clerk, both at London and Smyrna, he settled in the latter city, carried on business for many years on his own account, and accumulated a hand- some fortune ; when, finding his health af- fected by the influence of the climate, he gave up his commercial concerns, and re- turned to the British metropolis, where he intended to reside and enjoy himself during the remainder of his days. This plan, however, being defeated by a recurrence of the asthma to which he had latterly been subject, he resolved to retire into the country, and pitched upon his birth- place, under the impression that his native air would be most likely to agree with his constitution. An almost uninterrupted suc- cess in all his undertakings, and a conscious- ness that he owed his advancement in life to his own unaided exertions, had inspired him with a confidence in his own judgment which sometimes manifested itself by a per- verse and wilful opposition to the judgments of others. His peculiarities, however, we 12 ADAM BROWN. shall leave to be developed in the progress of our story. A sheer spirit of opposition, which often involved him in little embarrassments, had supplied him with a coachman whose chief merit was his unfitness for the situation. " All the world says I'm too old, and too deaf, and too stupid to be a coachman any longer," said the man, who wanted to be as- sisted in establishing a shop. " All the world lies," was the blunt reply ; '' and as nobody else will engage you, I will." With his man-servant, John Trotman, our mer- chant had been acquainted when there was much less difference in their respective situ- ations, John having been junior mate in the merchant-ship in which his present master had made several voyages as supercargo. Hence there was a familiarity between them much more in accordance with former than with present relations, and utterly op- posed to all the conventional usages that regulate the intercourse between master and man — at least in England. Though John had long quitted the sea-service, he retained ADAM BROWN. 13 much of its blunt roughness ; his curt and captious, and sometimes impertinent manner, being rather assignable to an ignorance of proper respect than to a want of it. From his remarkable taciturnity — for he rarely spoke except in monosyllables — his messmates had bestowed upon him the nickname of Mumchance ; but though his tongue might be indolent, his features were active and expres- sive, while his eyes, ears, and Hmbs, made amends by their quickness for the dulness that was occasionally imputed to him on ac- count of his unsociable silence. But the most singular personage of the merchant's household was Mrs. Glossop, the housekeeper; an office to which she had been appointed, with very liberal wages, as a reward for having most carefully nursed him during the severe fit of asthma, fol- lowed by an attack of influenza, which had finally determined his departure from Lon- don. For many years she had filled a similar situation in the family of his London partner, Mr. Gubbins, whose service she quitted solely because she declined accom- 14 ADAM BROWN. panying him to Smyrna. Unfortunately, however, she had accompanied Mrs. Gub- bins and her family to Paris, where they had resided for two or three months, in which interval she had picked up, by ear, a few French phrases, and delighted to inter- lard them with her discourse, rarely failing to introduce them with a curious infelicity, and generally vaunting her knowledge of the language when she was most unequi- vocally betraying her gross ignorance of it. As her ordinary English discourse might not seldom have authorized her to claim re- lationship with the Malaprop family, it may be surmised that her compound dialect was b}^ no means of the purest lingua franca. Fat, fair, fonder of tawdry dress than quite became her situation, and, though verging towards fifty, still looking as if she were perfectly well aware that she had once been good-looking, Mrs. Glossop had re- ceived a very high character from her late mistress as *' a bustling, honest, and respect- able body." With a housekeeper of such a discreet ADAM BROWN. 15 age and unblemished reputation, Adam Brown, himself an old bachelor of sixty, might have felt himself justified in defying the breath of scandal, had he troubled his head about it; but thoughts of what the world might think, or say, or surmise as to his habits or proceedings, never entered into his mind. In the consciousness that no im- putations could justly rest upon his own character, he sturdily scorned all the con- ventionalities of English society and man- ners, continuing to act, dress, talk, and smoke his chibouque, with the same perfect independence as when he followed his own whims and fancies at Smyrna. In accord- ance with this freedom, and perhaps under a vague notion that true gallantry has refer- ence to the sex rather than to the rank of its object, he would not permit Mrs. Glossop to climb up into the dickey of the carriage when they started from London, but insisted on her taking a place inside, spite of her repeated exclamations of " O mon cloo, Sir, point de fivo ; I couldn't think of such a thing toutafait. It's quite entirely hors de 16 ADAM BROWN. combat. Riding inside always gives me a violent tout autre chose in the head, and besides, Sir, I know my place better." '' And I know it better still," replied her master, pushing her in not very ceremo- niously, and taking a seat beside her, when he amused himself with his companion for some time, — for he had a touch of waggery in his composition, — by drawing out an account of her Parisian adventures, and laughing at her misplaced Gallicisms, though at other times her farrago would move his ire, and draw down an angry order " to leave off her cursed Frenchified gibberish, and speak English like a man." There was both pride in the humility, and humility in the pride, of Adam Brown, who delighted in referring to his humble origin, and never testified so high an enjoy- ment of his present wealth as when it afforded a contrast to his former poverty. With this feeling he had ordered a pair of post-horses to be added to the carriage at the last stage, that his triumphal return to Wood cote might the more strikingly remind ADAM BROWN. 17 himself, and perhaps others, of the miser- able plight in which he had originally- quitted it. The rider of the hacks, a little wiry, wiz- ened^ bow-kneed figure, who had grown old and grey as a post-boy, had a pride of his own, and would have dashed through the village with an additional speed, had he not been arrested bv the stentorian voice of the merchant, shouting out — " Hallo, you Sir ! pull up at the Green Man ;" — a mandate which was so suddenly obeyed, and with such a scuffling of horses' feet, that the vehicle became suddenly enveloped in a cloud of dust. The youngster in the tree, quite rejoiced to be right at last, had flou- rished his signal — the church-bells, a poor peal of five, one of which was cracked, were ringing out the crazy gladness of their welcome — the rustics collected at the corner of the Common had vociferously given the preconcerted three cheers, and had crowded round the carriage to have a peep at the Squire, when, on the clearing away of the dust, their stultified and bewildered look 18 ADAM BROWN. attested their utter inability to determine which was the Squire. It couldn't be Mrs. Glossop inside ; it couldn't be the dust- covered John Trotman in the rumble behind ; it couldn't be the fat coachman, for he wore a livery ; — a summary which left no other candidate for the vacant honour than our merchant, whose appearance was in anti- podean opposition to all their preconceived notions of the Squirearchy. A very broad-brimmed hat, meant to protect his eyes from the sun, only partially concealed his old-fashioned wig, wdiich was furnished with cannon curls and a pig-tail. His cinnamon-coloured coat and waistcoat spoke of former days and exploded fashions; his nether garments, of the same hue, termi- nated at the knee, where they were met by mackerel silk stockings, losing themselves n nankin half-gaiters. Giving to the heat, he had unbuckled his stock, which he held in his left hand, while his right rested on a stout cane, supported by the foot- board. Not of long continuance was the moon- ADAM BROWN. 19 struck quandary of the spectators, Adam Brown soon establishing his own identity by calling out, as he leaned back over the carriage — " I say, Mrs. Glossop — I say, John Trotman — here we are at last — this is Woodcote — yonder's the church — above the trees to the left you may see the belfry atop o' the Manor-House — and yonder butcher's shop, but it was a grocer's then, is the cottage in which I was born. It's eight- and-forty — ay, near nine-and-forty ^^ears, since I left Woodcote- — afoot, with a wallet at my back, and seven shillings and nine- pence in my pocket ; and now I come back with four horses to my chariot and a leetle — yes, a leetle more than seven and ninepence in my pocket. What d'ye think o' that, hey? Ha! ha!" — The latter exclamation, rather an habitual mode of satisfactory self- assertion than a laugh, was usually accom- panied by two confirmatory thumps of his cane, which on the present occasion sounded sharply against the foot-board. Though the rustics could hardly believe their eyes, they could not distrust their ears, 20 ADAM BROWN. and accordingly raised a new shout of " Long live the Squire !" " Thank ye, thank ye," nodded the mer- chant smilingly ; " but Squire me no Squires : I'm a British merchant, — at least I was one, and shall be always proud to be called one. Please to remember that, my good friends." "Good friends, forsooth!" repeated Mrs. Glossop, as she turned up her nose at the smocked rustics and ragged urchins sur- rounding the carriage : " ma foi ! this must surely be the pollyshongs and the canal of the place." " Tut, woman ! " cried her master, who had overheard the latter phrase; "there's no canal here — this is the brook that runs into the Chilt. I've bathed in it scores of times, and treacherous bathing it is when there's rain on the Cotswolds, though it's so quiet and so shallow now. — Hilloa — Green Man ! — Landlord ! — Master Wadiorn." " Here I am. Squire," replied the party thus lustily invoked, repeatedly bowing ADAM BROWN. 21 very low, and smoothing down his bald pate. " What's the price of your ale ? " ''Two shillings a gallon for the best double X from Gloucester." " And what's the size of your casks ?" " Why, we do always keep that ale in eigh teens, Squire." "And Avhat discount do ye allow if a fellow orders a whole cask, and pays for it next morning?" " Discount, Squire ! I never heard tell o' such a thing — I can't bate a farden. I can hardly get salt to my porridge as it is." " But you get plenty of porridge to your salt, if I may judge by your paunch, Master Tunbelly. Well; if you can't afford dis- count, I can't afford double X. — What's your next price?" " Eighteenpenny — and prime stuff it be." "And if you were to roll a cask out of your cellar, and tap it beside the bonfire, d'ye think you could find customers for the whole eighteen gallons — free — gratis — for nothing?" 22 ADAM BROWN. " Dear heart, Squire, to be sure I could, and twice as much. Ask Sam Belcher if I couldn't. Why if the Sodger do come down from the farm, he could drink three gallons to his own cheek." " And who may the Sodger be ? " " Why, John Chubbs ; we call he the Sodger, 'cause he's an old Waterloo man." " I'll have no such swilling, no drunk- enness, Master Waghorn; but you may bundle out the cask with plenty of mugs, and set fire to the bonfire as soon as you like." A general shout of " Long life to the Squire !" attested the popular sense of this order, while the landlord waddled back to the house, muttering, to himself, " Discount, indeed ! what a shabby hound ! Well, I couldn't ha' done sich a particular mean thing. Howsever, I'll be up to him, for they shall have the eighteen I tapp'd last Wednesday : there's not above three gallon drawed." It might have been thought that Adam Brown's first act on enterino; the villao'e would have been deemed sufficient for the ADAM BROWN. 23 moment, but such was not the opinion of a little urchin, who, as he took no great interest in the ale, kept bawling most vociferously, " Please to remember the bon- fire," until he drew forth the remark of " Well, it is a thumping bonfire, I confess. Where did you get all those boughs and sticks from ? " " We picked most on 'em from the Friar's Field," was the reply. " The deuce you did ! Why that's my field, you young rascal ; and am I to give you money for destroying my hedges ?" " Please, Sir, there was one large gap already." "And you have been kind enough to make a second. I won't give you a farthing, young scapegrace !" Whether he repented of this resolution as soon as he had formed it, or that he found it impossible to resist that love of waggery to which we have alluded, we cannot say ; but certain it is, that, as his eye fell upon a large puddle, occasioned by the emptying of some washerwoman's tubs, he tossed into it a handful of small silver, 24 ADAM BROWN. calling out, '' Well, well ; there's something for the bonfire." Upwards of a dozen urchins were presently scrambling and rolling over each other in the muddy soap- suds, besmirching their clothes and faces in so ludicrous a manner that the author of the mischief shook his shoulders with a wheezing chuckle, which terminated in a cough ; while Mrs. Glossop drew up the glass, and turned away her head distastefully, exclaim- ing, " Vraimong, I never saw such a set of toutafdit petty blackguards ! They don't seem to have the smallest notion of a la honne Jieure ; but what can one expect? Sans doute, they all come out of the Poor House ; and I dare say every one of them boys is a nasty dirty little sewer de chanted "John! you don't seem much pleased with the village," said the merchant to his man : " they are ringing the bells for my arrival — d'ye hear 'em?" An affirmative nod was the reply. " They make a pretty peal, don't they?" John shook his head, and muttered the words, '* One of 'em cracked ;" at the same time pointing to the ADAM BROWN. 25 dust, which still settled upon the carriage, and shaking the flap of his coat with a somewhat impatient gesture, as if anxious to move on. " Well, John Trotman, you 're right there," admitted his master, not in the least offended at his rudeness ; " so drive on, coachman." The postilion, who began to feel a thirsty apprehension that he might not be able to return to the green in time for the gra- tuitous ale, plied his whip, and the carriage drove off to the accompaniment of a still heartier cheer than that which had wel- comed its arrival ; and in a few minutes our merchant, swelling with a pride and satis- faction which were exhibited in sundry ejaculations of "Ha, ha!" and concurrent thumps of his cane, passed through the stone-seated porch, and planted his foot firmly and triumphantly upon the floor of his own mansion — the Manor- House. VOL. I. 26 ADAM BROWN. CHAPTER II. Dotted around the green or common of Woodcote were several garden-enclosed houses, which presented an appearance of comparative gentility, when contrasted with the neighbouring shops and sheds. To the smallest and prettiest of these detached cot- tages we are about to introduce the reader, first drawing attention to the decorous man- ners and appropriate dress of the truly " neat-handed Phillis " who will hasten to open the door before the bell has ceased to tinkle, a quickness of admission never to be expected in large and many-lackeyed man- sions. Everything in the interior bespoke an al- most fastidious neatness, with occasional evidences of elegance, checked in its display by manifestations of an ever-present and ADAM BROWN. 27 rigorous economy, as if the accomplishments and tastes of the occupants maintained a constant struggle with narrowed circum- stances. Pieces of worsted-work, equally exquisite in design and execution, were mounted in plain deal screens, coarsely manufactured and unskilfully painted, and against the wall, in glassless frames of a similar description, hung water-colour draw- ings of finished beauty. An old-fashioned but highly-polished harpsichord usurped an undue proportion of the small sitting-room, while the music-books, all of which were in manuscript, attested the singularly neat penmanship of their owner, as well as a vigilant avoidance of all unnecessary ex- pense. The house throughout was in keep- ing with the room thus partly described, and even in the garden a penetrative eye might detect a similar character, nearly the whole space being occupied by neatly-kept herbs and vegetables, partially concealed by ornamental shrubs and tastefully disposed flower-beds. The inmates seemed to be in perfect ac- c2 28 ADAM BROWN. cordance with the cottage — Mrs. Latimer, its owner, always wearing the appearance of a lady, though she made her own gar- ments from the very cheapest materials; while her twin hoys, as she still called them, in spite of their having now grown up to be young men, by their personal comeliness graceful carriage, and courteous manners, presented an unconscious air of refinement, which might seem little warranted by the homely texture and unpresuming fashion of their clothes. " My dear boys," said Mrs. Latimer, as she sat by the open window of the little parlour, while her eye rested on the shattered belfry that rose above the trees of the Manor-House, *' my dear boys, two days have now elapsed since Mr. Brown's arrival. I would not intrude sooner, because I thought he would be in all the bustle of putting things to rights, and Heaven knows he will have plenty to do in that way ; but don't you think that we ought to call and pay our re- spects to him this morning? He was a friend, you know, to your poor father." ADAM BROWN. 29 " You mean that my father was a friend to him," said Allan, the eldest of the twins, ** by recommending him as a clerk to the Smyrna house in which he became subse- quently a junior partner, and finally its principal. In short, he owes his fortune to my father ; methinks, therefore, it is his bu- siness to call upon us. He treated you with gross rudeness when he visited us some years ago, and until he apologizes for this want of common courtesy I for one have no wish to call upon him at all. As we don't want his riches, why should we submit to his insults ?" '' Nay," replied Walter, the brother of the last speaker, whose soft voice and beam- ing looks attested the affectionate gentleness of his nature; "nay, his reproaches were not meant for insults. They did but express the disappointment of a kind-hearted but coarse- mannered man, because we declined his proffered benefits." " Which were of a nature and extent," added the mother, " that showed his deep sense of your father's former kindness to 30 ADAM BROWN. him. Do not forget, my dear Allan, that he offered to place you in his counting-house at Smyrna, with a prospect of ultimately becoming his partner, and that he tendered to your brother's acceptance an Indian cadet- ship, of which he had taken no small trou- ble to procure the nomination. Regardless, perhaps culpably regardless, of your own interests, and of his angry and petulant ex- postulations, you refused his generous offers because you would not leave your poor in- valid mother to end her days in solitude. Heaven grant that you may never live to repent it ! and sure I am that I can never live long enough to show my gratitude for your kindness and attachment. I can only give you my blessing, dear boys, in return for the great sacrifice you have made." She held out a hand to each of her sons, and a tear glistened in her eye as she felt the tender pressure of their returning em- brace. " Ours would have been the sacrifice," said Walter, " if Allan and I had been se- parated from each other, and had left you ADAM BROWN. 31 all alone. Under such circumstances I should never have known a moment's hap- piness, whatever might have been my suc- cesses ; but I am always happy while we are living thus cosily together at Woodcote." " So am I5" cried Allan ; " and let me add that we are more independent, poor as we are, than if we were indebted to others for their unwelcome favours, or were en- slaving ourselves to a pursuit or a profes- sion." " But though we may not accept favours," observed the mother, " we ought not to for- get the kindness that prompts the offer of them ; and so I do hope, my dear Allan, that you will accompany your brother and my- self to the Manor-House this morning." " Well, mother, I will do whatever you wish. If you can forgive his rudeness, I have no right " " Nay, nay, Allan, there can be no rude- ness, I repeat, where there is no intention to offend. Mr. Brown's manners were harsh, certainly, but his offers were most generous ; and you would not surely quarrel 32 ADAM BROWN. with a proffered melon because its exterior was rough, — at least I'm sure / wouldn't." " You, dear mother ? why, you never quarrelled with anything in your life. I don't think you know how." " And I am too old to learn," smiled the mother ; '' so let it be settled that we all pay our visit at one o'clock this morning:" a proposition to which her auditors assented by another affectionate squeeze of the hand. The family of the Latimers formed indeed a little household of love and happiness, where no voice of discord was ever heard, no unexpressed feeling of dislike or discon- tent was ever cherished. Left a widow -at an early age, and reduced, by the circum- stances in which her husband died, from an easy competence to an exceedingly nar- row though fixed income, she purchased a cottage at Woodcote, seeking no other solace and society than the companionship of her twin boys, to whom she was de- votedly attached. Partly from motives of economy, partly because she could not bear to be separated from the objects of her love, ADAM BROWN. 33 she educated them at home herself, instruct- ing them in music and drawing, in which arts she was a proficient, and procuring oc- casional masters from Cheltenham for the more solid branches of tuition. As might be expected from this system of domestic teaching, from their secluded mode of life, and the great restriction of their pe- cuniary means, they had grown up in an entire dependence upon each other and upon their home enjoyments, in much igno- rance of the world, except such knowledge as could be obtained from books ; and with a simplicity and purity of character which the young rakes who have been initiated in the premature vices of our public schools would term a pitiful effeminacy. For coun- try sports the brothers had no predilection, and, even had they been addicted to such pursuits, they could not have incurred their expense, the whole of their spare means be- ing devoted to the maintenance of a humble one-horse carriage for their mother, whose debility prevented her from walking, and who derived both health and amusement c3 34 ADAM BROWN. from the little excursions in which she was thus enabled to indulge. Allan, who was a proficient in drawing, and who played on the violoncello like a master, had not only a passionate taste, but a positive genius, for the arts, while he pos- sessed literary talents of no mean order, al- though few opportunities for their develop- ment had hitherto occurred. Walter had sufficient taste for such accomplishments to render them a constant source of amuse- ment ; but his ardour was less intense, his success decidedly inferior, — a fact which no one was so ready to acknowledge as himself. Incongruous as it may sound, he had more- over a turn for mechanics, and was the amateur carpenter of the family, his good will rather than his good workmanship be- ing evidenced by the unprofessional-looking frames of which mention has been made. Neither of the brothers disdained the humble occupations to which their straitened finances occasionally consigned them, both acting as gardeners, and both looking after the horse and carriage, with half a day's assistance, ADAM BROWN. 35 now and then, of a stable-boy from the Green Man. In so ostentatious a country as England, where appearances are deemed all-important, and horses and carriages are kept quite as much for purposes of display as of utility, Mrs. Latimer's equipage would be stigma- tized by a fashionable spectator as a most sorry and disreputable affair, a miserable attempt, in which any person making the smallest pretensions would blush to be seen. The little chariot had once done duty as a fly at Cheltenham ; the low-sized and low- priced horse, although in good condition, seemed to have derived very little benefit from his grooming ; and the harness had been rubbed until the plating had disap- peared. Yet this forlorn " turn-out," which was in almost daily requisition, had been a constant source of health and gratification to tlie widow and her sons. Ignorant of the real motive with which it was kept, the villagers sneeringly proclaimed, as it passed, that there was nothing they despised so 36 ADAM BROWN. much as a union of pride and poverty, ridi- culing it accordingly as an inconsistent at- tempt; and although the Latimer family gave away in charity quite as much as their humble means would allow, it was often ob- served that, if they were only to lay down their paltry attempt at an equipage, they would be enabled to do much more for their poorer neighbours. Nor did the rich always allow this four- wheeled delinquent to pass with impunity. Whenever, in their drives towards Chelten- ham, its owners encountered the visitants of that city in their luxurious well-appointed britchskas, it provoked a contemptuous or compassionate smile, an expression much more offensively marked in the aristocracy of wealth than in the real nobility of the land, who, if they shared the feeling at all, were generally polite enough to restrain its exhibition ; but in all instances these dis- dainful notices were met by a look of beam- ing good humour, as if the trio had rejoined, " We are quite aware that ours is a sorry ADAM BROWN. 37 equipage, but we cannot afford a better ; it answers our purpose, and we are very thank- ful to have it." This all-condemned fly — for the family never gave it any more exalted appellation — having been got ready by the joint assist- ance of the brothers, was driven to the door by Allan, its usual charioteer, when Walter handed in his mother, took his seat by her side, pulled up the step by a little mechanical contrivance of his own, shut the door, and the party drove off to' the Manor-House. Short as was the distance, the anxious Mrs. Latimer twice let down the front glass to caution her eldest son against giving any unnecessary offence to Mr. Brown, observing to Walter, in a low voice, " Allan is apt to be hasty and impetuous, and, though his temper is the finest in the world, except, perhaps, yours, my dear boy, he is extremely sensitive, particularly where he thinks any slight has been offered to those whom he loves. He has a hiQ-h sense of independence, and I would have him pre- serve it, as he well may, for, thank God ! we 38 ADAM BROWN. already possess everything we could wish in the world ; but I cannot bear bickerings, or even coldness and estrangement ; and as Mr. Brown is to be our permanent neigh- bour, I should wish him to be our friend. I need not caution you, dear Walter, for, though you have as much proper pride as your brother, you are too gentle and kind- hearted either to give or to take offence without good cause." " And so is Allan," was the prompt reply. " Hasty he may be when his feelings are hurt, but where will you find a milder dis- position or a more affectionate fellow? When did you ever know him ?" " Nay, nay," interposed the mother, " I am not finding fault with him, — indeed, he never gave me occasion, nor you either; bless you both ! and it is a dehght to see you as fond of each other as you are of me ; and I often think that I am not sufficiently grateful, either to you or to Heaven, for be- ing such a happy mother." Walter main- tained that nobody else would think so, and in this endearing strain, which was indeed ADAM BROWN. 39 the general character of their conversation, they arrived at the Manor-House. As the little horse was much more rough than ready, and, so far from volunteering a start, never began one without much verbal coaxing, the driver being chary of the whip, Allan got down from the box, and rang the gate-bell, a summons which seemed to awaken nothing but its own echoes. After a pretty long interval, which the gentle Walter and his mother expressed a vain wish to prolong, Allan repeated the applica- tion with a vigour that attested some degree of impatience, but which was attended with no better success ; and he was on the point of sounding a third alarum, when John Trot- man, whose shirt-sleeves and heated ap- pearance showed that his delay did not arise from idleness, walked deliberately up, point- ing to the latch as he approached, and pro- nouncing, in a quiet respectful voice, the word " Open ;" as much as to say, " Why don't you drive in ? the gates are only on the latch." They were now swung back, creaking shrilly on their rusty hinges ; the 40 ADAM BROWN. carriage was driven through a most dis- ordered lawn, littered with lumber of all sorts, to the porch, where they again had to await the arrival of John, who ushered them into a large but low gloomy parlour, in a state scarcely less disordered than that of the lawn. " Send master if find him," said John, who never threw away a single word that could possibly be spared. To judge by the time that elapsed before he presented himself, the difficulty of finding the master of the? mansion must have been much greater than could have been anticipated ; but he at length bustled into the room, struggling to get into his coat, and, without making any apology for the long delay, hurried up to the lady, exclaiming, as he long and cordially shook both her hands, " Ah ! my good friend, Mrs. Latimer, right glad to see you. Well, now, this is kind and hearty of you to come so soon ; but I should have beaten up your quarters to-day if you hadn't called, for I hope we shall be kind and loving neigh- bours. Let us have a peep at your nice, quiet, lady-like face," he continued, leading ADAM BROWN. ^ 41 her towards the window. " Eh ! what ! well, it can't be helped, but old daddy Time hasn't forgotten you, I see. It's rude to say so, I suppose, but I never tell lies. And are these your boys ? Ods bobs ! what fine, handsome young fellows they have become ! 1 oughtn't to say so to their faces, I suppose, but why shouldn't I say what I think ? I hate a silent lie as much as a spoken one." With these words he gave each a hearty shake of the hand, and then added, " Well, lads ! I hope we shall be good friends, and that you will often come to the Manor- House ; but I do trust you are not such milk- sops and molly-coddles as you used to be, though that's your mother's fault, for she always tied you both to her apron-string. Why, when you were youngsters, as I've heard tell, she wouldn't let you climb trees for birds' nests, lest you should tumble down and crack your crown." " We have every reason to be grateful to our mother for the manner in which she has brought us up," cried Allan, rather proudly. 42 ADAM BROWN. " It was not so much my fear of their falling," said Mrs. Latimer, '* as my objec- tion to their acquiring when young a habit of cruelty which might have grown up with them. How could you expect a fond mother like myself to encourage them in robbing other mothers of their young ?" "Well, well, there's no disputing about tastes, but for my part they always seemed to me to look like a couple of great girls, when I saw Walter strumming at the harp- sichord and Allan scraping away at the tall big fiddle — I forget what you call it; but there's no accounting for tastes, as I said before, and least of all for yours when you wouldn't let them accept the offers I made to provide for them both on my last visit to England," "Indeed, sir, it was entirely their own choice, not mine," observed the mother. *' And one which I have never for a single moment repented," said Allan. " Nor I either," added the brother. ^' And that, boys, is the strangest taste of all," replied the merchant. " They may ADAM BROWN. 43 well say wonders will never cease. Why, look ye, Allan. If you had gone back with me to Smyrna, I should have stipulated that you should be taken in as a younger partner when I retired from business. If you, Walter, had gone to India, I should have got you recommendations that could not fail to push you forward. And thus in fifteen or twenty years you might both have returned as rich as I am, or richer, though I have rather more than seven and ninepence in my pocket." " And what should we have done then ?" inquired Allan. " Done ! why, you might have settled down quietly at Woodcote with your good mother, and have enjoyed yourselves, and been all as happy together as the day's long." "That's exactly what we are now, and without any of the trouble of going abroad," rejoined Allan : a reply at which the mer- chant appeared to be a little surprised and staggered, for he did not like to hear any one question the advantages of wealth. " And who knows that we should have 44 ADAM BROWN. found our dear mother at our return?" de- manded Walter. " Ay, and who knows," cried the mother with a slight shudder, " whether one or both of my darling boys might not have fallen a sacrifice to the climate, and have never re- turned r " Well, and if they hadn't, I warrant they would have died worth money. Don't you call that something ? Ha ! ha !" Two sharp raps of his cane attested his own con- viction that such an Euthanasia would be rather enviable than otherwise. " Be assured, sir," pursued the widow, " that we are none of us the less sensible of your intended kindness. Let us hope that everything is for the best. We are all quite satisfied with our present fortunes and pros- pects, nay, most grateful for them. We are all, I am sure, most happy to have you as a neighbour, and I am now doubly glad that we were in some degree enabled to protect the Manor- House from pilferage and mischief." " You ! why, you didn't know I was going to buy it ?" ADAM BROWN. 45 " No, indeed ; but for some years past it has been shut up and left to take care of itself; and when it was understood to be in Chancery, some broke the windows, and some damaged the fences, while others broke into the out-buildings and began to carry off whatever was portable. Now, a house without an owner or protector, instead of being a public prey, as our rustic neigh- bours seemed to think, appeared to us rather like an orphan child, which has a kind of claim to everybody's good offices ; so my son Walter, who is a bit of a car- penter, set to work and repaired things as well as he could ; and Allan stuck up a threatening notice against depredators, and seized one or two of the trespassers, though he let them off on their promise of discontinuing their petty pilferings; and I went round among the neighbours, and persuaded some, and frightened others; so that we managed to keep the place a little to rights, though I fear it has been damaged and plundered in spite of all our exertions." 46 ADAM BROWN. "And a neighbourly act it was, and an honest act ; and I feel much obliged to you all, my good friends." " You have no cause, for we never dreamt of your purchasing the Manor-House estate." "True, true; and after all it makes no difference to me, for I shouldn't have given so much for it if the place had been in better order. Trotman, and coachman, and Mrs. Glossop, and half a dozen others, have been running to me all day, crying out, this roof leaks, and that door is off its hinges, and those windows are broken, and these floors are rotten ; but what then ? I told the London lawyer, who had the sale of the property, and who was too gouty to come down and look into its real state, that all the roofs leaked, all the doors were off their hinges, all the windows broken, and all the floors rotten ; and I so bamboozled old Swell- foot, that I got the place at my own price. I tell you what, Mrs. Latimer ; I don't lay claim to much learning, for I have had ver}'- little education, but he that would beat me ADAM BROWN, 47 in a bargain must come from the far north, and rise uncommon early in the morning. Ha! ha!" " You will have plenty to do before you are comfortably settled," said the widow, declining to notice, since she could not quite approve, his crafty cleverness. "So much the better, so much the better ; I have nothing else to do. I wouldn t have bought this old ramshackle place if it had not supplied me with plenty of occu- pation, for I hate idleness." Allan and his brother, both of whom had been conciliated by the kindness and cor- diality of the merchant's reception in spite of his bluff manners, tendered their good offices and assistance whenever they could be rendered available towards putting the house and grounds in better plight ; an offer which was instantly accepted with a hearty shaking of the hand, and the visitants had risen to take their departure, when their new neighbour suddenly exclaimed, " Ad- zooks ! I had nearly forgotten to tell you, my good Mrs. Latimer, that I have taken the 48 ADAM BROWN. liberty of ordering a new cabinet piano to be sent to your cottage, because I observed that your old-fashioned harpsichord, squaring its elbows at you the moment a fellow opened the door, hardl}^ left room in your little parlour to swing a cat in. Though I myself don't know a piano from a hurdygurdy, I made them try several before me ; I pitched upon the loudest, which I suppose must be the best; and I desired them to send down lots of the new opera music, all Italian, because I know you and your boys prefer it, though I must say I think it would be much more sensible and manly to sing English. And I have moreover bought — nay, nay, you shan't say a word till you have heard me out — I have bought for you and my young friends here a famous brown cob for your little carriage, as your present Rozi- nante is evidently on his last legs, and the cob, who will do either to ride or drive, will enable you to make longer excursions, and pull 3^ou better up the hills, so that you may see a little more of the country. — Now, don't open your mouth, Allan, nor you either, ADAM BROWN. 49 Mr. Walter, for I haven't done yet. These are not gifts to you nor to your mother ; in fact, they are not gifts at all, but a first divi- dend, and a very small one too, in repayment of the debt of gratitude that I owe to your father, as good a fellow as ever lived. Ah ! if he had taken my advice, he would never have embarked in that fatal speculation which went all wrong, and cut up his health and broke his back." " Alas ! it broke his heart," sighed the widow, turning aside her head to conceal an unbidden tear, and taking refuge in a cough, as her broken voice would not allow her to express her gratitude. Allan and Walter, perceiving her emotion, would fain have conveyed their own sense of the mer- chant's kindness, but he stopped their mouth by abruptly exclaiming, " Stuff and non- sense ! don't make any fuss because I want to get out of debt. Give me time, and I'll pay you all. Do you expect Adam Brown to forget the old friend who first gave him a start in the world ? If you do, you'll find yourselves deucedly mistaken, and so I tell VOL. I. D 50 ADAM BROWN. you. I am not that sort of chap. Ha ! ha !" With these words he started up, and accom- panied his visitants to the porch, apprising them that they must find their own way out, as John Trotman was much too busy to attend them, adding that for his own part he hated to have lackeys always running after him, as if he couldn't open a door for himself Unassuming and humble-spirited as she was, the widow did not scruple to assert, or rather to insinuate her sagacity when she found her judgment confirmed or her pre- dictions verified. On their way home, there- fore, and during the remainder of the day, she took frequent occasion to remind her sons that she had always maintained Mr. Brown to be a most generous and kind- hearted man, however unpolished ; that she had stoutly vindicated him from any inten- tion of giving offence on a former occasion ; that she was the first to counsel the present visit, which had already procured for them a new piano and a new horse, both of which were grievously wanted, and which might ADAM BROWN. 51 eventually lead to much more important benefits. Allan, whose quick feelings some- times drove him into extremes, and who felt that he had been somewhat unjust in his estimate of their new neighbour, was now vehement in his praise, adding, after a reverie of two or three minutes' duration, " I think I have heard you sa}^, dear mother, that Mr. Brown was never married, and that he has no nearer relation than a good- for-nothing nephew." " To whom, bo3^s, I caution you never to make reference, for he is a man of such bad character that his uncle has been obhged to repudiate and disown him, and I did hear that the young man, being un- able to show his face in this country, had run away to America, or somewhere beyond seas." " But Mr. Brown/' resumed Allan in- quiringly, " must leave his money to some one, and who can have a better claim than the family of the friend to whom, by his own confession, he was mainly indebted for the acquisition of his fortune ?" d2 ■ inniinW 52 ADAM BROWN. " For my part," observed Walter, " 1 should look with dread upon any change : it could hardly be for the better, when we are all so happy in our present plight. If mother wished it indeed, — " " Not I, my dear, unless upon your ac- count and your brother's." "Is it worth while," asked Allan, with a smile, " to discuss the question any longer, considering that it is a contingency which may never arise ?" " Well, well, Walter; if we are not likely to have castles upon the earth, we have the better excuse for building them in the air." " In the mean time," was the reply, " here we are at our dear little cottage, which is a thousand times better than any castle, either on earth or in the air." ADAM BROWN. 53 CHAPTER III. Nearly opposite to Mrs. Latimer's, across the green, stood a larger cottage, of more external pretension, but of much less real neatness and comfort. The door and win- dow-sills, as well as the lattice-work for trailing plants, were painted of a gaudy colour, while the damaged roof, cracked panes of glass, and neglected aspect of the whole building, indicated great slovenliness or a stern parsimony on the part of its oc- cupants. An awkward and dirty young rustic, dubbed with the title of a page, in virtue of a shabby jacket bespattered with showy buttons, ushered visitants into what was termed the drawing-room, where they could hardly fail to recall the fable of the frog and the ox, everything betraying the attempt of 54 ADAM BROWN. a little fortune to assume the display and swell itself into the dimensions of a large one. Cheap engravings in flaring frames hung against the walls to conceal the torn paper ; the once tawdry furniture had become for- lorn and decayed ; the worn-out carpet hardly presented the ghost of its original pattern ; the ricket}^ chairs had lost the gilding, while the faded curtains retained the dust, of former days : but, on the other hand, a large coat of arms emblazoned upon vellum, and suspended over the chimney, preserved the freshness of its glaring colours ; and a plated waiter, engraved with the same ar- morial bearings, and placed upright upon a narrow side-table, still retained a portion of its pristine polish. A harp, wrapped in an old green baize cover to hide its disfurnished state, stood in one corner of the room ; a guitar reclined in a second ; a fowling-piece, shot-belt, and powder-flask sometimes occu- pied the third ; and the fourth was not unfrequently usurped by a lean pointer, gnawing a bone. Literary tastes, such as ADAM BROWN. 55 they were, claimed fellowship with the in- congruous articles we have been describing, the table in the centre of the apartment being usually supplied with an old number of the Sporting Magazine, and a well- thumbed novel, or book of fashion, from the Circulating Library. This inconsistent union of poverty and pretension was in the occupation of Captain Charles Sullivan Molloy, a gentleman of no small consequence in Ireland, if we might implicitly believe a large engraving sus- pended in the most conspicuous part of the drawing-room, presenting a view of a stately mansion in the midst of a deer- stocked park, and bearing the following inscription : " Clognakilty House, County Down, Ireland, the seat of C. S. Molloy, Esq." But this was one of those cases in which it is perilous to believe even ocular evidence, the mansion in question being the property of a very distant connection, the initials of whose Christian names had been carefully scratched out to make room for those of the pretended proprietor, who had purchased the print 56 ADAM BROWN. for the express purpose of imposing upon his English friends and neighbours. This pitiful forgery being sufficient to afford a general insight into the boastful and un- scrupulous character of the Captain, we shall for the present content ourselves with adding that he was a widower, and that, after having wasted in extravagant living the small fortune brought to him by his wife, he had retired with two daughters and an orphan grandson to Woodcote, having very little more than his half-pay to support his family, and endeavouring to varnish over his reduced and embarrassed circumstances by pomposity, boasting, and ' pretension. His personal appearance was not altogether inconsistent with his worldly plight, his once handsome features betraying the touches of decay, and the fine head of hair which had been the glory of former days having been succeeded by a bald forehead ; but his figure was still imposing, and he walked and talked with a strut and a swagger that seemed to defy both time and fortune. ADAM BROWN. 57 Matilda, his eldest daughter, who some- times confessed in a confidential whisper to particular friends that she would be five- and-twenty next birthday, though she might safely have added six or seven years to the score, was a showy, bold-looking, forward girl, whose free and easy manner was meant to excite admiration as a youthful exuberance; and whose tawdry low-priced finery passed muster with the rustics for a fashionable elegance. While her father's fortune lasted she had been paraded to various places of public resort in the hope of obtaining an advantageous settle- ment, but her own undisguised advances had rendered the hook so palpable, that she had not succeeded even in obtaining a nibble from a gudgeon. The flutterers and danglers who usually hover around a handsome and accessible girl were afraid of compromising themselves with a manifest husband-hunter, who seemed ready to construe everything into an offer, and whose father was reputed a dead shot. Boastful and unscrupulous, she resembled in many respects the magni- d3 58 ADAM BROWN. loquent Captain, whose mendacious aver- ments as to their former grandeur she hesi- tated not to support; in return for which accommodation he stoutly corroborated her little fiction touching the anno domini of her birth. In figure and features, allowing for a difference of twelve years in their respective ages, Ellen, the second daughter, resembled her sister ; yet this did not extend beyond a slight family likeness, so totally dissimilar was the soft and