^^i uJLo^ iv^u. 't^^. m«^ 
 
 L I B RARY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 UN IVERSITY 
 
 Of ILLl N015 
 
 89.3 
 D394g 
 
 v.l
 
 ^"^^.L 
 
 7 ^S
 
 GLEjV LONELY. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 London : 
 
 Printed by A. Spottiswoode, 
 
 New-Street-Square.
 
 GLENLONELY. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 PRINTED FOR 
 
 LONGMAN, REES, ORME, BROWN, GREEN, & LONGMAN, 
 
 PATKRKOSTER-ROW. 
 
 1837.
 
 Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2010 with funding from 
 
 University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/glenlonelyinthre01deme
 
 QZ5 
 
 t 
 
 GLENLONELY 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 M^HO can have lived in Tuscany and not have 
 felt the glories of its opening day? It is an hour 
 peculiar to that favoured division of Italy, — not 
 quite Italian, but one wherein the freshness of 
 Old England is blended with the soft witcheries 
 of the south. 
 
 It was in the spring of 18 — that the gallant 
 but " unattached" Colonel Murray found him- 
 self and his dog humbly but comfortably lodged 
 at the wild village of "Albergo di Castello," a 
 romantic spot, which commands a view of the 
 Adriatic, and, though surrounded by the finest 
 scenery, is of course unknown to those travellers 
 
 VOL. I. u
 
 GLENLONELV. 
 
 who pursue the beaten track, and, like a flock 
 of geese, merely follow the leader w^hose ex- 
 perience tells where the best feed is to be found. 
 Colonel Murray had retired to his bed of dry 
 leaves, wearied in body by his usual rambles 
 amidst the mountains, and more than usually 
 fatigued in mind by the unlooked-for events of 
 the day. This mental suffering was, we confess, 
 an affliction which rarely occurred. Wedded from 
 boyhood to the profession of arms, and even be- 
 trothed to the grim goddess in his cradle, he had 
 fulfilled the auspices of his warlike nativity by dis- 
 tinguishing himself in all the campaigns of Wel- 
 lington. At an early age he was separated from 
 the mistress of his heart by the peace of Europe; 
 but his character was confirmed: he w^as the 
 thorough soldier, and the mind of such a man 
 is rarely oppressed by the depth of thought. The 
 hurried and endless changes which chequer the 
 life of a warrior prepare him for all that can 
 happen; his reflections are confined to the tac- 
 tics of his art; he has no time for more; and if 
 these inspire decision and action as the trials 
 fall, it is enough : he has a shield for the hour
 
 GLENLONELY. 3 
 
 -)£ danger, and a strong tower in the day of 
 battle. But we must not suppose that the fre- 
 quent scenes of misery and bloodshed can de- 
 stroy the kindlier feelings of the heart ; their 
 growth is checked, but the root is not withered: 
 like the bow, they recover their elasticity with 
 the rest of peace ; and the sternest follower of 
 the camp is still the father, son, or brother, when 
 returned to the bosom of his family. 
 
 With the termination of the war. Colonel 
 Murray flew to his native home, — his own dear 
 Highlands. Frank and generous by nature, pre- 
 served by the hand of Providence through a 
 thousand perils, his fond and anxious mother 
 pressed him to her heart, as a being rescued 
 from the grave; while his lovely sisters, with the 
 pure fervour of affection, paid that adoration 
 which a kind and only brother is wont to re- 
 ceive. 
 
 In their eyes he was all-perfect: blessed in 
 the happiness of their own roof, their love, their 
 undivided love, was centered there, and for a 
 short, but happy time, they dreamed that their 
 brother would leave them no more, — that they 
 B 2
 
 4 GLENLONELY. 
 
 could never know a wish beyond the present 
 bUss. 
 
 But, alas ! their idolized Colonel was mortal; 
 and, what was more likely to destroy the dream 
 of his worshippers, he was, as we have said, every 
 inch a soldier, and he wearied with the " dolce 
 far nienter He revered his parent, and loved his 
 sisters; he felt flattered — and what man would 
 not? — by the homage of the innocent; but the 
 temptation of witnessing the Russian campaign 
 against the Turks was irresistible. Having long 
 since quite decided upon the means of attack 
 and defence of every position within twenty 
 miles of his home, he bade a warm farewell to 
 his united family ; and, availing himself of an in- 
 troduction to Prince Borrowouski, he indulged 
 in the love of his profession as an amateur, un- 
 til the Turkish cimeter bowed in homage to the 
 northern conquerors. 
 
 Once more he returned, and once again his 
 active and restless mind became palled with the 
 honied tameness of a country life. What was 
 to be done ? The mighty powers of Europe 
 were too poor to play at war, — that harmless,
 
 GLENLONELY. 5 
 
 fascinating, but expensive game ! Lives they 
 had more than enough to stake; but then a 
 man must be well fed, and gaily clad, before he 
 is fit to be shot; moreover, he must be killed 
 in a style worthy of civilisation ; and without 
 money this cannot be done. 
 
 The Russian autocrat had no more rebellious 
 troops to destroy with glory ; he had won an 
 empire which he dared not hold, and now was 
 quietly playing the tyrant at home. 
 
 The king of ditches and frogs was croaking, 
 but had not resolved to defend the only mole- 
 hill in his submarine kingdom. In short, the 
 world was most provokingly quiescent, and the 
 Colonel not a little puzzled to know what he 
 could do. At length he determined to visit 
 Italy, and explore the less frequented beauties 
 of its mountain pass or smiling valley. To him 
 the works of nature were dearer than those of 
 art, excepting always the art of war. The 
 vision of departed conquerors, from the great 
 Hannibal to the greater Napoleon, was before 
 his eyes : to retrace their steps was to him the 
 path of pleasure, — to stand upon a battle-field 
 B 3
 
 b GLENLONEL\. 
 
 was that exquisite and satisfactory delight which 
 we may suppose an animal to feel when, after 
 a temporary abstraction, it is returned to its 
 native element. 
 
 At the commencement of the chapter we 
 have introduced Colonel Murray as being do- 
 miciled for the night at the village of Albergo 
 di Castello. We have alluded to a more than 
 usual degree of pensive reflection, — an event 
 which had been caused by meeting with one of 
 his dearest and earliest friends, and this, too, 
 under circumstances as unexpected as they were 
 extraordinary. We have spoken also of his warm 
 and kindly feelings; but, in this respect, we 
 might have done him more ample justice, had 
 we admitted our readers to the parting from 
 his sorrowing mother. 
 
 Most assuredly events of deep interest are 
 imparted to the atmosphere we breathe; they 
 must travel with the winds, or form an alliance 
 with that electric fluid, which, doubtless, is ever 
 traversing the globe, and pervading all things. 
 The result, though not the cause, was know^n 
 to the ancients : they gave ears to a dead wall,
 
 GLENLONELY. 7 
 
 wings and a speaking-trumpet to the goddess 
 Fame ; but it remained to us of the marching 
 intellect to devise a more rational theory. It 
 must be so ; let the conductor be what it may, 
 electricity alone can carry the despatches. How 
 otherwise could we have known the victory 
 of Waterloo, long before mortal messenger 
 could have travelled the space between us and 
 that immortal spot ? A rail-road by sea and land 
 would not have given the speed with which the 
 news were transmitted. 
 
 How otherwise can we account for the fact 
 linked w^ith the burnt Houses of Lords and 
 Commons, the destruction of which was known 
 at Birmingham before they had taken fire ? 
 O ! that the wisdom of the Privy Council had 
 smacked of philosophy ! — what cost and labour 
 might have been spared, had they asked which 
 way the wind blew, or known our theory of 
 " new and expeditious travelling ! " 
 
 This is a digression ; but we make no apology 
 
 to the novel-reader of this age : we know our 
 
 metier; we are writing to senators, who, thanks to 
 
 penny magazines, have picked up the knowledge 
 
 B 4
 
 8 GLENLONELY. 
 
 of children. To the young, who were taught 
 the pursuit of knowledge when they toddled in 
 the go-cart of infancy — to such it were an in- 
 sult to offer amusement without instruction. 
 We have no wish to offend ; and being much 
 too ambitious to be distanced in the race of 
 reform, we shall make no apology for being 
 wise just as often as the humour suits us. 
 
 Having communicated this theory of floating 
 rumours, we leave our readers to set a watch 
 upon their tongues, and reflect upon the trans- 
 mission of scandal. In our case, we merely 
 wish to account for the knowledge which the 
 Colonel's mother had acquired. Her son had 
 breathed not a word of his intended departure ; 
 he had not named it to his all-confiding sisters ; 
 his servant, a veteran from the ranks, had heard 
 nothing of the movements which were about to 
 be ; and yet his very dog had taken to watch 
 his master's eye and footsteps : it was an under- 
 stood thing that he was going. The thing " had 
 taken wind^^ to use a term wisely applied by the 
 ignorant of former days ; and when the Colonel 
 went to his mother's boudoir to reveal his in-
 
 GLENLOXELY. 9 
 
 tentions, he was startled to find that he had 
 nothing to disclose. 
 
 An ambush could not have surprised him 
 more : for days past he had pondered how he 
 should make his approaches to the subject ; with 
 the mercy of a soldier, who, to gain a given 
 point, sacrifices the least possible number of fel- 
 low-creatures, he had studied how to win his 
 way, without inflicting unnecessary pain. 
 
 Heavy news can be lightened by the manner 
 of imparting them. The Colonel had mustered a 
 host of gentle arguments — allies ever at hand to 
 strengthen our own wishes ; but they fled before 
 the artless penetration of a mother : she read his 
 thoughts. Resting her arm upon his shoulder, 
 she bent the warrior's frame of iron; and, having 
 planted a kiss upon his noble brow, whispered 
 in his ear — " My son, you will leave us ! " 
 
 The words were uttered in the tone of sad 
 prediction, or they might have borne the inter- 
 pretation of hope and inquiry; here, these could 
 not exist, and the Colonel had only to surrender 
 the simple truth, and say, " Mother, I am 
 
 B 5
 
 10 GLENLONELT. 
 
 To know the worst is always a relief to the 
 mind; and after this frank confession they were 
 able to make the intended journey their theme 
 of conversation: nay, more than this, the mother 
 listened to his love of glory — the deeds of the 
 mighty dead — till she caught the spirit of en- 
 thusiasm, and felt with the feelings of her son. 
 
 As they rose to part, " I have," said he, " one 
 request to make, one offering to bestow, and 
 which, for my sake, I know you will value. I 
 possess," he continued, " the first cannon-ball 
 that was fired by the Turks in the Russian 
 campaign; it was the gift of Prince Borro- 
 wouski. The Prince and suite were taking the 
 first survey of the Turkish lines ; engrossed by 
 the interest of our discussion, intent upon the 
 observation of great things, we overlooked one 
 trifling fact, until the whizzing of a shot re- 
 minded us that we had approached somewhat 
 too near to the enemy. The ball, though nearly 
 spent, passed between the Prince and myself." 
 
 At these words a slight quiver of the lip, a 
 passing pallor of the cheek, might have been 
 remarked, had the Colonel watched the features
 
 GLENLONELY. 11 
 
 of his heroic mother ; but, as he did not, he 
 continued his account by saj^ing, — 
 
 " We looked at each other, and smiled to 
 think how the thread of our discourse had been 
 cut in two. Whether the Prince thought of 
 the chance which had nearly severed the thread 
 of his life, I know not; for, in an instant, he 
 galloped after the ball, and, having exhumed it 
 from the sand in which it was buried, he pre- 
 sented it to me as a mark of his esteem. ' Keep 
 it,' he said, * in remembrance of this campaign, 
 
 — the gift of a Russian to an Englishman whom 
 he honours as his friend.' " * 
 
 The reader may smile; but does not every 
 relic owe its value to the power of imagination 
 
 — the associations it creates ? 
 
 What is the dirty coin of the antiquary? tlie 
 poet's brick from Tasso's prison ? the lock of hair 
 to the lover? Their spell is broken when we 
 change their possessors ; — the tapered finger of 
 patrician lady would scorn to touch the dirty 
 copper; the builder's eve vrould view the brick 
 
 * Mutato nomine — a fact. 
 B G
 
 12 GLENLONELY. 
 
 according to his art, and fix a value propor* 
 tioned to its hardness; the hair of the loveliest 
 
 unknown but we need not pursue the 
 
 comparative declension ; the reader may deem 
 the offering quaint and misplaced in a lady's- 
 boudoir, but he must comprehend how it gained 
 in the mother's eye that value with which her 
 son's imagination had stamped it. 
 
 The love of truth obliges us to confess that 
 the Colonel did touch upon the verge of the 
 ridiculous as he delivered the relic. He had 
 concluded its little history, and, in placing it 
 within his mother's hands, quite forgot how ill- 
 proportioned they were to the weight of iron. 
 Down fell the ball, slightly wounding, and all 
 but smashing, that portion of body most unro- 
 mantically styled toe : he, however, was too 
 much in earnest to be disconcerted by the ac- 
 cident ; and the mother's heart was much too 
 sad to catch the ray of mirth. 
 
 " Place it, my son," she said, " on yonder 
 table; and there, amidst my glittering baubles, 
 its sterner form shall be as a Mentor amongst 
 the young and heedless ; — it shall teach a
 
 GLENLONELY. 13 
 
 mother to raise her thoughts to Him whose 
 mercy has hitherto preserved her truant boy ; 
 and," she continued, in words scarcely audible, 
 from the grief she could no longer restrain, — 
 " and I will humbly pray that he may once 
 again be restored to bis home." 
 
 We should not have lifted the veil of this 
 parting scene, but we felt a sting which tickled, 
 if it did not prick, our conscience. We feared 
 that we had given a wrong impression of the 
 frank and noble Colonel : if it were so, we now 
 feel that his character cannot be mistaken. 
 The man who can invest a trifle with the value 
 of a jewel, cannot be a bad man ; there is the 
 milk of humanity within his heart, 
 
 I shall never forget a German officer who 
 landed at Dover, in 1814, in the suite of the 
 Emperors. He was mustachoed and whiskered — 
 in size exceeding most, in features excelling 
 all around him ; but the cast of those features, 
 though fine, was fixed and uncompromising. 
 His age must have touched upon fifty, — a time 
 when the heart within is apt to be frozen as the 
 exterior. He seemed like one of those cannon
 
 14 GLENLONELY. 
 
 which he had often led to victory, so unbend- 
 ing was the grandeur of his beauty. 
 
 Yet this very man, as he sprang upon the 
 shore, bent upon his knee, seized a pebble from 
 the beach, kissed it with fervour, and then con- 
 cealed it in the folds of his military cloak. The 
 whole was the action of a moment, and he was 
 " himself again " ere I had recovered from my 
 astonishment. I looked at the man — there 
 was one pure drop upon the grey mustachio ; 
 but whether it sprang from the source of hidden 
 feeling, or was but the spray of the dashing 
 waves, I know not ; there certainly was no other 
 trace, — no link wherewith to form a decision. 
 
 It may be supposed I could not lose sight of 
 a being whose actions had thus riveted my in- 
 terest. I found the opportunity of an introduc- 
 tion ; and, when quite alone, I ventured to seek 
 an explanation. He smiled — for I soon dis- 
 covered that he could do so ; yes, smiling with 
 a look which would have soothed an infant, he 
 said, — 
 
 " My mother is English : she married a 
 foreigner ; and, amidst the trials of a chequered
 
 GLENLONELY. 15 
 
 life, banishment from her native country was 
 not the least. She had pined, like a Swiss, to 
 revisit her home once more ; but the lengthened 
 war under Napoleon rendered this impossible ; 
 and when at length the prospect of his fall 
 held out the possibility, declining health con- 
 fined her to her couch. She had taught me 
 her native tongue, and her last words are en- 
 graven upon my memory : — ' Should your feet 
 touch the English shore, for my sake bless the 
 country which gave me birth — gather some 
 token from the print of your first footstep, and 
 beai' it to me, in remembrance of the land 
 which I shall see no more ! ' " 
 
 But, alas ! this is foreign to our purpose ; — 
 how sadly have we wandered — how unwisely 
 have we been betrayed ! We have cast off the 
 cloak of authorship, and written " I " instead of 
 " we." This must not occur again, or we may 
 be supposed to possess but one head. We beg 
 leave to state that this is not the case ; and, to 
 convince the reader, he shall find a head to 
 every future chapter. 
 
 Ere we conclude this, and rejoin our thorough-
 
 16 GLENLONELY. 
 
 bred English Colonel at Albergo di Castello, we 
 will merely say, that the Turkish cannon-ball 
 holds its appointed station in Lady Murray's 
 sanctum; excepting now and then, when the 
 clumsiness of some permitted guest, or bustling 
 of ill-omened housemaid, disturbs its vis inertice, 
 and makes it describe an orbit which threatens 
 a world of china and nick-nackeries.
 
 GLENLONELY. 17 
 
 CHAP. II. 
 
 THE BLUNT RAZOR ; OR SOLDIER TURNED 
 PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 Mysterious chords within the human breast, 
 What trifles wake your long-continued rest ! 
 How feelings, hush'd where slaughter'd thousands lie, 
 A pang confess if some poor insect die I 
 
 Whitehead. 
 
 Colonel Murray arose from his simple but 
 luxurious couch, refreshed by the slumber which 
 its fi-agrance had induced. The morning wa^ 
 one of those which we have mentioned as 
 peculiar to Tuscany. A freshness had fallen 
 upon all created things, and engendered that 
 joyous spring of life, that fulness of happiness, 
 which makes the spirit bound and overflow. 
 The flowers, having doffed the veil of night, 
 were opening their charms to welcome the
 
 18 GLENLONELY. 
 
 rising sun, — to feel its light and warmth, which 
 to them was life. The very animals appeared to 
 have forjjotten the calls of huno;er in their sense 
 of joy : the air was harmony with the outpour- 
 ings of the merry birds. The squirrel, dropping 
 his nut uncracked, described his aerial arc, and 
 leapt from twig to twig ; the hare, ceasing to 
 crop its dainty clover, now stamped with mimic 
 fear, now frolicked with its mate, or paused to 
 wash its whiskers in the morning dew. This 
 was no bad hint to the Colonel, who had watched 
 Miss Pussy's toilet, and forgotten that it was 
 high time to think of his own. His spirits had 
 risen with the scene before him ; for who can 
 look on happiness, nor feel its rays reflected ? 
 
 " Woman," said he, as his thoughts recurred 
 to Eden, " what a glorious picture has thy first 
 frailty dashed with sorrow ! Yet, what is the 
 diamond without a dowager to wear it ? w^hat 
 is happiness unshared with others? and, but 
 for the sentence passed upon the disobedient, — 
 ' replenish the earth and die,' — we had not been 
 here to breathe our span of life, and figure to 
 ourselves the harmony of earth ere sin existed."
 
 GLENLONELY. 19 
 
 The Colonel paused : he had wandered, with- 
 out an effort, to the bowers of Eden ; he had 
 improved upon the reality before his eyes, 
 and pictured the graceful image of Eve as she 
 petted the monarch of the woods : but he started 
 at the depth of his own thoughts when he found 
 himself sinking into metaphysics. The meet- 
 ing of yesterday recurred in full force, as he 
 felt that the tone of his mind was caused by the 
 impression it had made. 
 
 He had promised a long visit to the friend 
 of his youth; and, gathering one of the clustered 
 oranges, which cried " come eat me," he bent 
 aside the shady boughs, and left the little bal- 
 cony into which his bedroom opened. 
 
 As he seated himself before the glass, and 
 looked, fct upon the golden fruit, then upon 
 his reflected chin, once more he remembered 
 Eden with a sigh, and envied the happiness of 
 man ere he knew the misery of a bad razor. 
 
 Some black-muzzled philosopher has balanced 
 the penance of shaving against the rule of mul- 
 tiplication adjudged to woman. Whether his 
 scale of punishment be correct or not, there is
 
 "20 GLENLONELY. 
 
 a quaintness in the idea which must strike every 
 man who wears not a beard. " Why," said he 
 with vexation, as he toiled to effect a union 
 between the soap and the hard-hearted water, 
 " why have we deserted the wise and becoming 
 practice of our forefathers ? Who can call to 
 mind the pointed beards of Vandyke's all- 
 glorious days — who look upon the Greek patri- 
 archs of modern times, and not allow that the 
 fashion which robs the face of its noblest orna- 
 ment merits the punishment it entails ? " Here 
 his mouth was closed by an attempt to pro- 
 pitiate his chin ; it might not be. Newton 
 himself would have dropped his pipe, and never 
 blown a bubble to make the thoughtless laugh 
 and the grave look wiser. 
 
 The ineffectual attempt allowed him to re- 
 sume his reflections, which flowed, as usual, in 
 the channel tinged wdth the colour of his own 
 profession. " A plague upon the barber's art, 
 which robs a man of his own ! Nature was 
 wiser than the War Office; she knew what a 
 ticklish thing was the neck of man, and, with 
 the skill of an engineer, she planted a chevaux-
 
 GLENLONELY. 21 
 
 de-frise upon the chin, to guard against the 
 love of cutting one another's throats." 
 
 While the Colonel's anger, with the spirit of 
 a disappointed man, found rehef in blaming 
 the government, his hand was more profitably 
 employed by walking its weary round, and 
 producing at length a promising crop of 
 bubbles. 
 
 Another trial ; but, alas ! the elements had 
 conspired against him : water had already done 
 its worst, and now the air of spring and warmth 
 of the rising sun united their powers to betray. 
 These — or it might have been his eloquence — 
 seduced a venerable fly to venture from its 
 winter quarters. It can be no easy matter to 
 awake at once from a six months' nap, and it is 
 still more difficult for the old to grow young. 
 The poor fly, feeling that invisible hand whose 
 touch had quickened the pulse of living things 
 and opened the eyes of every sleeping bud, 
 looked dimly from the crevice in which it had 
 slumbered securely. As its memories freshened, 
 it sallied forth, and attempted, as of old, to walk 
 the painted ceiling.
 
 22 GLEXLONELY. 
 
 But the destroyer, the never-sleeping Time, 
 had watched through the winter hours ; at peep 
 of morn — at dead of night — unceasing and 
 unwearied, he had pursued his work of destruc- 
 tion, while the unconscious insect enjoyed its 
 lengthened dream. 
 
 It now awoke to the truth. Its limbs were 
 stiffened by age ; the muscles, exquisitely fine, 
 had lost their elasticity and power ; — it dropped 
 from the ceiling, and fell upon the nose of the 
 persecuted Colonel. 
 
 The assault was so novel and unexpected 
 that he was taken by surprise, his operations 
 were disconcerted, and he himself wounded in 
 the retreat. 
 
 A trifle, unexpected, can often rouse our 
 anger more than the deepest provocation for 
 which we are prepared. In this case he vowed 
 vengeance by the god of war; and, eyeing the 
 blood which trickled from his chin, was about 
 to inflict the ''lex talionis'^ upon the innocent 
 fly ; but, as we have already said, the Colonel's 
 mind had been previously softened, and, as he 
 raised his hand to strike, he beheld the offender
 
 GLENLONELY. 23 
 
 on its back, struggling, as it seemed, with ap- 
 proaching death. 
 
 He blushed to think how insignificant a thing 
 can wake the evil passions of man ; and the 
 arm and hand, which were about to take away 
 life, were folded on his breast, relaxed and calm, 
 as the limb of a sleeping infant. 
 
 " Poor insect," he said, " thou hast little 
 blood to lose ! " and, forgetful of his own hurt, 
 he watched the fly with that curiosity which an 
 atom can excite when we launch upon the ocean 
 of thought. 
 
 The wings, which last year sported in the 
 sunbeams, and moved with a rapidity too swift 
 for mortal eye to follow, now, alas ! had not the 
 power to restore the insect to its footing : the 
 one folded on the other seemed drooping and 
 forlorn, as a peacock's tail which has drunk of 
 the morning dew. The Colonel put forth his 
 hand to aid the wishes of the dying ; once 
 again the fly regained its legs, and slowly 
 dragged itself within a ray of sun : the warmth 
 revived its energies. It may be some dream of 
 sunny youth returned : the wings were unfolded j
 
 24 GLENLONELY. 
 
 and for a moment it soared some inch or two 
 above the bleached cover of the table. It was 
 the last effort of nature ; once more it fell 
 upon its back — its tiny proboscis quivered 
 with agony — one by one its legs convulsively 
 stretched forth, and then shrank to the body to 
 move no more ! 
 
 It might be impossible to trace the mysterious 
 source; but certain it is, that a sigh escaped 
 from the lips of our philosophic warrior, — from 
 him who, oft and oft, had trodden the field of 
 battle, and passed unmoved amidst the dead and 
 dying. Such, however, is the chord of human 
 feeling; atone time unbending as the oak, — 
 at another touched like the aspen-leaf that 
 quivers in the calm of sleeping nature. 
 
 " And w^as it for this," said he, " that months 
 were added to thy span of life ? why not have 
 perished like the moth of the silk-worm, or died 
 like the Alpine wanderer, who falls asleep, and 
 wakes no more ? Why," he continued, " has 
 Providence ordained a lethargy through w^inter, 
 that thou shouldest come forth in spring, to feel
 
 OLENLONELY. 25 
 
 thou livest, and suffer death when all around is 
 life and joy ?" 
 
 If there were guilt in thus questioning the 
 decree of an all-^dse and inscrutable Creator, it 
 partook of that dark, yet redeeming power, 
 which worketh all things for the best, and 
 bringeth good out of evil. I\Ian is prone to 
 question the means which surpass his wisdom, 
 till the good and harmony resulting grow pal- 
 pable to his vision. 
 
 Colonel Murray's eye had wandered, after 
 the manner of man, to himself; the tell-tale 
 glass upon which he gazed gave a silent hint, 
 that his dark and glossy hair had been touched 
 by those straggling flakes of snow which herald 
 the winter of old age. 
 
 The decree of death to every living thing 
 around us — the certainty of its fulfilment — is 
 an awful contemplation in the day of health — 
 in the hour of calm and perfect possession of 
 reason. We may bear the sentence with firm- 
 ness — look upon its accomplishment with in- 
 difference, or even pray for the release of our 
 immortal soul ; but this state of mind is in op- 
 
 VOL. I. c
 
 26 GLENLONELY. 
 
 position to the love of life implanted in our 
 nature. It may be produced by the drunken 
 madness of our passions, by physical exhaus- 
 tion when borne to the earth through sorrow 
 or sickness ; it may be attained by animal 
 courage in the strong, and holy resignation in 
 the weak ; but, when these causes are absent, 
 when, happy in ourselves, we look on nature in 
 the beauties of her bridal garment, or on some 
 one beloved being — young, innocent, perfect in 
 form, and lovely in mind ; then, indeed, the 
 certainty of death is an awful thought ! To 
 know that decay, ruin, and desolation shall 
 change all that is beautiful upon the face of the 
 earth, is a truth which may call a tear from the 
 firmest and the best of men. 
 
 The death of the meanest insect — a prim- 
 rose crushed by the passing wheel — destruction 
 in any form, in the midst of life and happiness, 
 is enough to touch this chord of sad reflection. 
 How forcibly did this conviction strike the 
 Colonel, as he contemplated the dead fly ! 
 Thouo-h little of a naturalist, he scrutinised its 
 structure ; and, as he marked the shaggj^ hairs
 
 GLENLONELY. 27 
 
 which nature had given as the cloak of age, he 
 fancied he could detect more than one abso- 
 lutely grey. 
 
 " Alas, poor insect ! " he said, " and is not 
 thy fate too often our own ? Do we not dream, 
 and dream, through the winter of life, and only 
 
 awake to die ? Do we not live as thouorh we 
 
 o 
 
 slept, blind to the change which Time is ever 
 working — insensible to the warnings which 
 the creeping hand of age is ever giving ? 
 Thou hast not died in vain ! May I treasure 
 the lesson thou hast given without daring to 
 arraign that Providence which directs all things 
 for the best ! " 
 
 We cannot take upon ourselves to say whether 
 the fly was buried with military honours or not ; 
 but this we do know, that the Colonel thought 
 he had enough of philosophy for one day, and 
 accordingly proceeded with his toilet. More- 
 over, we know that the incident of that mornino-, 
 trifling as it may appear, paved the way to many 
 a solemn meditation, for which the world never 
 gave him credit. 
 
 At length the mazes of the chin were fairly 
 c 2
 
 28 GLENLONELY. 
 
 mown, the love-lock of the lower lip was duly 
 pointed, the mustachoes of the upper curved 
 and anointed : in conclusion, we are bound 
 to confess, that a smile of mortal satisfaction 
 brightened the features of the handsome Colonel, 
 -as he convinced himself that the snow which 
 liad nestled beneath his helmet had spared the 
 sable robing of his face. 
 
 Having discussed the merits of an Italian 
 breakfast, he hailed his dog, who had impatiently 
 watched every mouthful he took : with his gun 
 under his arm, and a something between a 
 game-bag and knapsack slung upon the shoulders 
 of his guide, he sallied forth for the purpose of 
 exploring the quarters of his dear and earliest 
 friend. 
 
 Before we start with him, it may be well to 
 give the reader a short account of the unex- 
 pected meeting between the two friends. Years 
 had intervened since they had parted in Eng- 
 land. Alas ! how great the change ! — how sadly 
 had the promise of spring been swept away by 
 the swelling tides of life ! In Colonel Murray 
 the change displayed the banner of his art.
 
 GLENLONELY. 29 
 
 Soldier was written in his features, and traced 
 in his step and bearing. In him the change 
 was great, but it was such as time would woi'k 
 upon one of his Highland towers : there would 
 be the record of years, of the storms and buf- 
 fetings of this world ; but the sinews of the 
 cemented blocks would have hardened in the 
 struggle, producing a union of strength and 
 beauty, though beauty of a sterner cast. 
 
 In making this simile, it is not our own judg- 
 ment that has guided the pen ; we have trusted 
 to woman's heart and eye. We know of those 
 who knew him as the gay and joyous ensign ; 
 but he won not then the admiration he com- 
 manded now : yet, wounds and privations of a 
 long campaign had changed him in all save the 
 noble heart within. With his friend the change 
 was greater, and one of a sadder hue. The 
 Colonel had gained the reward for which ambi- 
 tion struggled : hope, life, and animation flashed 
 from his piercing glance. His friend had drunk 
 the poisoned cup of disappointment : the soft, 
 the calm, and sunken eye told of resignation and 
 the wreck within. 
 
 c 3
 
 30 GLENLONELY. 
 
 Herbert Lindsay and Colonel Murray had 
 never met since they were in the midst of those 
 attractions which London offers to the young 
 and old, the fool, the wise, the thoughtless, and 
 the philosopher : for all, London has a redeeming 
 virtue. It may be justly styled the hot-bed of 
 iniquity. Do not, we would ask, the seeds of 
 corruption spring from the heated passions of 
 every crowded population ? But what other city 
 can we name as the point of union for the best, 
 as well as the worst, — for the highest in intel- 
 lect, as well as the lowest? Like the oil of the 
 rose, which neither sinks beneath, nor mingles 
 with the tainted stream on which it may be 
 cast, thus it is that the great and good circulate 
 with the stream of life, and meet in the heart of 
 our Leviathan : the proportion may be small, 
 the floating drops be few, compared to the mass 
 of waters gathered to its source, but still the 
 essence may be found by those who seek dili- 
 gently ; the odour of goodness is a thing apart, 
 and guides us with unerring certainty to its 
 store of heavenly riches. 
 
 The friends, as we have said, when they last
 
 GLENLONELY. 31 
 
 met, were units amidst the millions of the 
 capital. Nearly alike in age, each panting to 
 proceed upon his career of happiness, yet with 
 prospects and circumstances widely differing the 
 one from the other. 
 
 While the Colonel, lost in the visions of mili- 
 tary glory, looked to the point of his sword for 
 fame and fortune, Herbert Lindsay, the inheritor 
 of thousands, was about to unite his destinies 
 with a being so lovely in form, so perfect in 
 mind, that he trembled when he looked upon 
 the vision before him. The fear that it might 
 be — that it must be lost, shadowed his humble- 
 mind, as he said within himself — " What am I, 
 to merit such earthly happiness ? " 
 
 Alas ! it seems as if the spirit of prophecy 
 were given to those whose feelings are too finely 
 strung to bear with the discord of this jarring 
 world. But we must not anticipate — we must 
 not at once raise the veil of future events: 
 enough for the present to say, the marriage did 
 not take place ; or, to quote from the chronicle^; 
 of the day, — 
 
 " We hear, from undoubted authority, that 
 c 4
 
 32 GLENLONELY. 
 
 the intended union between the Hon. Herbert 
 Lindsay and Miss St. Clair is suddenly broken 
 off. A thousand rumours are afloat ; but conjec- 
 ture is lost in attempting to account for an 
 event so unexpected, and, we may add, myste- 
 rious. The more than ample fortune in the 
 possession of one, and the expectations of the 
 other, promised all that wealth could bestow. 
 But the long-existing attachment, which grew 
 with its growth, even in a London season, — the 
 highly cultivated talents of the gentleman, — the 
 sweetness, beauty, and mind of the idolized fair 
 one, — gave the promise of happiness which no 
 wealth could purchase. We refrain from giving 
 one of the many on dits : most are founded in 
 ignorance ; not a few in the envy and malice of 
 evil hearts. Nothing more is known than the 
 fact, that the Hon. Herbert Lindsay has left 
 England, and that Miss St. Clair has retired 
 from the gay circles of fashion to the tranquil 
 and lovely scenery of her guardian's estate." 
 
 It will be our sad task to show how rapidly, 
 how fearfully, disappointment and sorrow can 
 work their ruin.
 
 GLENLONELY. 33 
 
 CHAP. III. 
 
 HOW TO GET ON IN THE WORLD. 
 
 When shall we three meet again ? 
 
 Shakspeare, 
 
 How to get on in the world ! — We repeat the 
 heading of the chapter, for it is a question of 
 vital importance in the scramble apt to accom= 
 pany the blessings of peace and plenty. 
 
 Yet it is a question so easily answered, the 
 *' how " is so obvious, that we wonder it is not 
 seen by all ; in truth, the means are so many 
 that the only difficulty lies in the selection. 
 
 Amidst the many, living upon our fellow- 
 creatures is particularly easy and agreeable. 
 We have only to rob the living or dead (a petty 
 larceny or sacrilege of little moment to the 
 conscience) ; and, having stolen their ideas, there 
 needs but the skill of a Kitchener to dress 
 c 5
 
 34 GLENLONELY. 
 
 them to the palate of the day ; or, if this be too 
 much trouble, — if a man will not, like the 
 lamented doctor, earn his bread and write a 
 book " by the sweat of his brow," let him quote 
 word for word, as we have done, — as review- 
 ers and book-makers will continue to do; let 
 him add a piquant garnish of his own foolish 
 brains, as we have not done, and the dish is 
 ready to be served to the hungry public ! 
 
 But this is not the secret we intended to 
 impart : the reader shall presently hear a much 
 better way of getting on. To say truth, the 
 fear of detection has made us honest, spared 
 our brains, and led to a confession we could 
 not avoid. Doubtless we should have been just 
 as honest as our neighbours, could we have 
 been guilty of stealing privately ; but there is 
 a style so peculiar to the daily journals, — a 
 grace, delicacy, and pathos, — a dark and de- 
 lightful obscurity, which we feel and hope we 
 could never imitate. 
 
 We will sin no more after this fashion ; for 
 we hate all earthly confessions, including that 
 of love ; one and all are painful. We therefore
 
 GLENLONELY. 35 
 
 promise neither to steal, nor even, under the 
 cloak of hypocrisy, borrow, from their columns. 
 No ; we like to give the gentleman in black his 
 due; and, since Cobbett is no more, let the 
 devil seize the idle gridiron of that honest and 
 consistent patriot, — let him dress thei'eon such 
 delicious morsels, for the benefit of those who 
 glut their appetite by feasting on the vices and 
 miseries of their fellow-creatures, and for the 
 profit of those who pander to the passions of 
 depraved imagination. 
 
 At the time when the paragraph we have 
 quoted was passed, like a watch-word, from 
 paper to paper, Herbert Lindsay appeared in 
 the brightest promise of manhood. 
 
 Upon coming of age he inherited from an 
 uncle the accumulated fortune of a Ions: mi- 
 nority. His manners possessed that ease and 
 grace which mark the gentleman, and may be 
 readily conceived; but in his voice and smile 
 there was a witchery which no words could 
 picture, — no imagination realise. His beauty 
 was of an order so peculiar, that we hope to 
 be forgiven, by our fair readers at least, if 
 c 6
 
 .36 GLENLONELY. 
 
 we attempt a description more minute than 
 usual. 
 
 He was the first and an only child: his 
 mother, in fulfilling the hopes of an adoring 
 husband, laid down her own life in giving 
 existence to her son. The infant inherited the 
 delicacy of its mother, and was reared like a 
 plant which the winds would wither and the 
 cold destroy. His constitution, however, stood 
 the ordeal of our varying climate, and seemed 
 to gather strength with the expansion of his 
 intellect. 
 
 He passed in safety from infancy to boyhood, 
 his health confirmed, though delicate ; bearing 
 in feature and complexion an index of the 
 mind — of that refinement in thought and feel- 
 ing which beamed in every word and action. 
 
 At Eton he was placed under the care of a 
 private tutor ; and, what is not a little singular, 
 he pursued his course in that world in miniature 
 as he did in after years, when treading the 
 sphere of man, — always distinct, but never 
 alone. 
 
 His frame was too finely strung to enable
 
 GLENLONELY. 37 
 
 him to take a leading part in the more active 
 sports of boyhood; but he loved to associate 
 with those who did. His warm and social 
 heart identified itself with all around : he 
 played his part as a part of his fellow-creatures. 
 Slight as he appeared, a few weeks had con- 
 vinced the tyrant that " the gentle Herbert " 
 could resent an insult offered to himself, and 
 fire at the wrongs of others. In either case it 
 was found that courage could lend strength to 
 the weak ; that the blue and almost feminine 
 veins traced upon his lofty brow could swell 
 with anger at the sight of oppression or injus- 
 tice. Attached to all the pursuits of literature, 
 — the elegancies and accomplishments of body 
 and mind — yet blindly devoted to none, he 
 continued to the last equally respected as be- 
 loved, — the pet, yet idol, of the school. 
 
 We pass his career at Oxford: there needs 
 but to bear in mind the picture of the past, 
 and view it with a lens of higher power. The 
 field was wider ; new beauties were developed. 
 In winning distinction, he, with one fatal excep- 
 tion, gained his honours without losing the affec-
 
 38 GLENLONELY. 
 
 tion of his rivals : the driest studies, the warm- 
 est arguments, could never destroy the witchery 
 which drew all hearts towards him. 
 
 We now come to that period of life when he 
 looked to the accomplishment of the only event 
 which could add one iota to his earthly bliss. 
 Such as he then was we will attempt to de- 
 scribe him. 
 
 In height, Herbert Lindsay exceeded most. 
 His figure was slight, — almost delicate ; yet, 
 had strength been more boldly defined, it 
 would have harmonised less with the expression 
 of features : though slight, it was graceful in 
 the extreme. Had the hand been severed from 
 the wrist, it would have told of a patrician line, 
 and suggested the image of grace which per- 
 vaded the perfect form. His sunny locks, wild 
 as the holyday of youth, laughed at the word 
 " control," and sported with the rays of light. 
 We have used the epithet "sunny;" for, 
 though their shade was of the darkest chesnut, 
 it seemed as if each curl had drunk of the 
 golden orb: one turn of the tapered fingers, 
 and it was dressed vnth more effect than the
 
 GLENLONELY. 39 
 
 genius of Barber-rossa * had ever accomplished. 
 The classic oval of the face was lit by eyes of 
 such brilliancy that a mother would have trem- 
 bled as she fondly gazed ; so largely did they 
 partake of that soft, yet vivid, transparency, 
 which speaks more of heaven than earth, — pro- 
 claims the fiat of consumption, and leads us to 
 imagine that the dying have drunk of that 
 .purer light to which they are hurrying through 
 the passage of the grave. Their general expres- 
 sion was melancholy; at times, however, wit 
 and humour played around, and bade the 
 shadow fly. Occasionally, but much more 
 rarely, this clear soft light kindled like a 
 flashing fire. The mouth — the speaking 
 mouth — revealed the depth of feeling, thought, 
 and passion ; — ay, when the lips, closely com- 
 pressed, marked firmness and decision, even 
 then the fine and trackless nerves answered to 
 the heart within, and tempered an expression 
 which otherwise had bordered on severity. 
 
 * The son of Ross of perukian memory. It was this 
 puppy who cautioned a lady not to take the cork from a 
 bottle of " Macassar oil," lest it should make the hair 
 grow under her nails ! ! !
 
 40 GLENLONELY. 
 
 Herbert Lindsay needed no mask ; — his 
 thoughts and feelings sprang from a source so 
 pure, so noble, he would have felt it self- 
 degradation to conceal that which he need not 
 blush to express. He had learnt to master 
 those passions which level man with the brute ; 
 and, though he had also been taught the 
 wisdom of curbing the strength of better 
 feelings by the lesson of the heartless world, 
 their force was hidden, but not destroyed ; and, 
 as they warmed beneath their veil, a passing glow 
 was reflected on the cheek : its stay was fleet- 
 ing ; but, to a quick observer, it told of feelings 
 too deep and sacred for the ear of the many. 
 
 Our sketch is imperfect — we feel it to be so ; 
 but the reader's imagination must fill up the 
 canvas, and complete a picture to which no 
 language could do justice. 
 
 We hope to be more successful in redeeming 
 our promise : we have pledged ourselves to 
 reveal the philosopher's stone, — to which end 
 we beg to assure the public there is nothing 
 like going back, if we wish to get on. This 
 may sound like a startling hypothesis; but as
 
 GLENLONELY. 41 
 
 the age insists upon a fraction of instruction 
 with its pennyworth of amusement, we feel 
 bound to make its truth apparent. Nothing 
 so easy. Even truth, the rarest gem on earth, 
 is only rare because people will not take the 
 trouble of looking for it : they remain wilfully 
 blind, — the effort of opening their eyes is too 
 great ; but if others raise the sleepy lid, vision 
 is restored, and truth made palpable. 
 
 To our task. — Does not your tradesman, 
 when anxious to rise, call his creditors to- 
 gether, and close his shop? For a week or 
 two the shutters continue up ; there is a death- 
 like blank where thousands were wont to 
 glitter. It is but the sleep of a giant : the 
 shop re-opens in greater force than ever; the 
 owner stands higher than he did. Disgrace — 
 psha ! Misfortune can only elevate ; and it 
 must be apparent to the blindest, that when a 
 man collects all that is due to himself and 
 pays nothing to others, it must give him a lift 
 in the world : in other words, he gets on by 
 going back. 
 
 Let us look a little higher. The ambitious
 
 42 GLENLONELY. 
 
 banker or merchant is bankrupt ; his carriages 
 are sold ; and " ere those shoes are old " in 
 which he stood in the Court of Commissioners, 
 a more stylish equipage replaces the one which 
 Robins — the greatest and only money-making 
 poet of the age — had knocked down. For a 
 moment the poor man is obscured by a cloud ; 
 the next he re-appears, and rises the bright 
 phoenix of misfortune ! The movement is 
 beautifully simple, and easily managed : hav- 
 ing, in the goodness and wisdom of his heart, 
 made an ample settlement on his wife, he could 
 aflPord to speculate with capital entrusted to his 
 care. If successful, he reaped the harvest; if 
 ruined, he wanted for nothing : the bath of 
 bankruptcy washes away all debts, andT leaves 
 no stain behind. He starts again with clean 
 hands, and gets on, as they say in the Hebrew 
 tongue, " better as snever, " 
 
 While we still hold open the eyes of our 
 readers, we beg them to look around, and say 
 whether the men " about town," who get on the 
 best, are not persons who have notoriously spent 
 their inheritance, and gone back in the world ?
 
 GLENLONELY. 43 
 
 Nay, we contend that majesty itself, our most 
 gracious King William, was mistaken when he 
 said to the retiring alderman who poked his 
 foot through his gown, " Never mind, Mr. 
 Alderman Eatables, — devilish awkward that 
 walking backwards ! " The movement, we con- 
 tend, was good, but the workman a bungler, — 
 he knew not the art of backing out ; but we 
 know, and every courtier knows, it is the true 
 way of getting on, as it affords the means of 
 bowing to royalty, and turning our backs upon 
 our friends. It is clear that kindness of heart 
 can mislead even kings. 
 
 If further proof were wanting of the efficacy 
 of the course we advocate, do not we furnish 
 conviction at this moment? — have we not got 
 on by going back ? Yes ; and we intend to go 
 still further back ere we proceed with our 
 Colonel to the wild retreat of Herbert Lindsay. 
 
 In the stream of life there are most extraor- 
 dinary currents, w^hich bring together friends, as 
 w^ell as man and wife : events and chances the 
 most undreamt of, not only lay the foundation, 
 but build and cement a union between such as
 
 44 GLENLONELY. 
 
 appear to hold nothing in common, — beings 
 who differ one from the other utterly and 
 entirely. 
 
 It is wisely ordained. Selfish though we be, 
 we are not like the beasts of the field ; we are 
 formed to gain strength, like the bundle of 
 twigs, by being united : to produce the har- 
 mony of mutual support there must be a divi- 
 sion of talent and temper, as well as division of 
 labour. 
 
 These reflections crossed our path as we 
 journeyed back to the birthplace of Colonel 
 Murray, of Herbert Lindsay, and of the ances- 
 tors of Alexander Melville Gordon ; for the last 
 of these, though early transplanted to Scotland, 
 was born in India. No three persons could be 
 more essentially different one from another; and 
 yet circumstances had so completely brought 
 them together — so linked the triumvirate, that, 
 from boyhood to manhood, they sailed the 
 stream of life in one and the same bark, seem- 
 ingly a happy and united crew. 
 
 But the seeds of division were there ; they 
 were planted by nature : the fruit was certain,
 
 GLENLONELY. 45 
 
 and the link which bound the three was arti- 
 ficial. When is it otherwise ? How few, if 
 any, who, hand in hand, attain the Stygian 
 shore, undivided by the storms, the passions, and 
 wrecks of later life ! 
 
 To explain the almost fraternal intimacy of 
 their younger days, we need only mention the 
 juxtaposition of residence, similarity of ages, 
 and the capricious fancy of chance, which or- 
 dained each to be the only son of the three 
 neighbouring families. 
 
 Of Herbert Lindsay we have spoken at length. 
 We have already related that, at twenty-one 
 years of age, he became possessed of an ample 
 fortune, through his uncle, a relation who died 
 while Lindsay was so young that he could only 
 be remembered from the kindness of his be- 
 quest. 
 
 This inheritance made him perfectly inde- 
 pendent of his father, Lord Glenlonely ; a man 
 of cultivated mind, but secluded habits : there 
 appeared, indeed, a dark resemblance in the 
 cast which doomed the father and son to the 
 same loneliness of grief.
 
 46 GLENLONELY. 
 
 The loss of a lovely and beloved wife dashed 
 from the father's hand that cup of earthly bliss 
 which he had but tasted ; — the son, in his 
 turn, had seized the cup, and raised it to his 
 lips, when the blow of a demon paralysed his 
 grasp, and the honied nectar fell, untasted, to 
 the earth. In both there was wanting that 
 elasticity of mind which enables most to rally 
 with returning years ; both had the ample 
 means of indulging the tone of feeling which 
 one deep affliction had created ; — each had 
 unwisely staked his happiness on one throw, 
 and each had lost. 
 
 But it must not be supposed that in either 
 case the wants and happiness of others were 
 forgotten in the sorrows of their own hearts. 
 The influence of their kindly feelings was ex- 
 tended for miles around them ; — rarely seen, 
 secluded as it were in the centre of the sphere 
 wherein they dwelt. The poor and wretched 
 drank of a stream whose source was hidden, 
 though known ; the wounded awoke, and saw the 
 flask of oil, but not the hand which placed it by 
 the couch. The good Samaritan had been
 
 GLENLONELY. 47 
 
 abroad — a hand unseen had scattered money 
 for the needy, and balm for the widow : the 
 fatherless were fed, the wicked warned, the 
 good rewarded. It seemed as if some blessed 
 spirit wandered in the silence of night, — heard 
 the prayers which rose to heaven, and caught 
 the tears which fell to earth. 
 
 Whether Lord Glenlonely really walked in 
 his sleep, or dispensed his benefits through the 
 medium of others, we leave to the decision of 
 our readers ; neither can we pause to argue the 
 merits or demerits of this eccentricity of good, 
 which, of course, the world pronounced to be 
 madness, because it differed from the ways of 
 the many. 
 
 We shall never get on, as we hope to do, in 
 our retrograde movement, if we do more than 
 state facts, to prove, at least, that the gi'ief 
 which led to the seclusion of body by no 
 means imprisoned the mind, — its footsteps 
 might be widely tracked by the blessings which 
 followed. 
 
 There was, indeed, one exception to the 
 general resemblance between the fate of father
 
 48 GLENLONELY. 
 
 and son : the former was not absolutely solitary, 
 — he had one companion, who was to him as a 
 ministering angel ; one to whom he could 
 breathe the sacred sorrows of his heart, and 
 raise the dark veil of past events with the cer- 
 tainty of sympathy. Need we add, that that 
 one was woman? — a being young, lovely, 
 
 and . But back we must return to our 
 
 Colonel. 
 
 George Murray was the only son of General 
 Murray, the representative of a line of war- 
 riors and Highland chieftains. 
 
 The civilisation of Scotland v/as a sad per- 
 plexity to this warlike race — gifted as they 
 were with second sight. Messrs. Gall and 
 Spurzheim had never crossed their " dim ob- 
 scure : " they rarely felt their heads, unless 
 it were to close the wound inflicted by a battle- 
 axe ; but they felt the effect, though they 
 knew not the cause. Fight they must — 
 though they never dreamt that the necessity 
 sprung from a bump upon the skull ! 
 
 The earliest history of the clan was but a 
 continued chronicle of feuds and warfare —
 
 GLENLONELY. 49 
 
 of Slaughter on a grand, or dirking on a petty 
 scale — of burning — drowning — or starving 
 their fellow-creatures, their countrymen — and 
 this for centuries ! No wonder that the organ 
 of pugnacity was handed down by the heads 
 of the family; no wonder it was superemi- 
 nently developed, and became, in the end, a 
 very peg whereon to hang a helmet. 
 
 But, alas ! no pleasures are doomed to last, 
 and the inroads of civilisation greatly inter- 
 fered with the pastime of innocent murder ! 
 
 The grandfather of our Colonel, with the 
 shrewdness of a Scotchman, foresaw the me- 
 lancholy turn of coming events; and, seeing 
 that his son would be unequal to stem the tide, 
 he launched him on it, by procuring his com- 
 mission in the English army. 
 
 He himself — whom for distinction-sake we 
 will call Crab of ^lac Crab — held till his 
 latest breath a dotrored determination to su- 
 premacy ; as the head of his clan, he insisted 
 upon the homage of his clansmen, and belie ve4 
 that he had the power of life and death on all. 
 Fortunately for himself and those around him, 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 60 GLENLONELY. 
 
 lie was content with this imagined right of 
 absolute tyranny ; he was a kind protector 
 to all who owned his sway, but bitter enemy 
 to those who dared to question his title. 
 
 One little anecdote is on record, which may 
 serve to show the demi-barbarous notions of 
 the worthy chieftain. 
 
 Crab of Mac Crab, vigorous in muscle 
 though advanced in years, was persuaded to 
 journey to Edinburgh, and be present at a 
 meeting of the most celebrated masters of the 
 bag-pipe ; he was accompanied by his own 
 piper, Sawney Mac Crabbison, a man who 
 ranked amongst the first in the noble art of 
 Scottish minstrelsy. 
 
 The attendance was numerous, and Crab 
 of Mac Crab was in the Highlander's second 
 heaven, as he stood by the side of Sawney, 
 and listened to his more than wonted inspir- 
 ation. There is certainly no accounting for 
 taste, but a young Saxon who was present 
 considered the sounds as any thing but hea- 
 venly ; — instigated by the demon of practical 
 jokes, he quietly opened his penknife, and
 
 GLENLONELY. 51 
 
 inserted the blade into the piper's bellows — 
 there was a rush of winds — the golden goose 
 had been ripped open, and the richness of 
 melody died in the act. To picture the wrath 
 of Mac Crab would be vain ; his eagle eye had 
 detected the offender, and words were idle in 
 attempting to describe his glance of fire : his 
 actions were more simple; and if, for a mo- 
 ment, the fire of the eye was transferred to 
 the glittering steel, it was instantly quenched 
 in the blood of the Saxon. 
 
 With a nice perception of justice, he exer- 
 cised the lex talionis by striking, to the best of 
 his anatomical skill, at the lungs, having, he 
 argued, as much right to let the breath out of 
 the body, as the body had to let the wind out 
 of his piper's bag. 
 
 Luckily for the chieftain's neck, his know- 
 ledge of anatomy was slight, — less, indeed, 
 than might have been expected, considering 
 the number of subjects he had practised upon. 
 The blow was struck somewhat lower than the 
 lowest rib, in that region of the body which 
 most resembled the injured bag, thinking, no 
 D 2 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF 
 ILLINOIS LIBRARY
 
 52 GLENLONELY. 
 
 doubt, by a species of comparative anatomy, 
 tliat therein dwelt the breath of man. 
 
 In consequence of this jumble of science, 
 the wound was less mortal than intended. 
 Nature does much for the living, and the 
 Saxon's skin was shortly repaired ; but, alas ! 
 neither art nor nature could repair the piper's 
 bag. 
 
 This circumstance often preyed upon the 
 mind of Mac Crab. He never for an instant 
 doubted the propriety of resenting the insult 
 as he had done ; but the Saxon's skin being 
 whole, and his bag not, he had occasional 
 doubts whether he was not bound in honour to 
 strike a second blow. 
 
 This venerable child of the Highlands was 
 nursed by their mountain dew to an extreme old 
 age; his daily quantity of nourishment w^e dare 
 not say, lest our veracity should be questioned 
 on other points. 
 
 He died, as he lived, with all his honours 
 thick upon him. The full costume of his clan 
 was cherished to the last ; and, having attained 
 to the verge of a century, he quietly sank
 
 GLENLONELY. 53 
 
 into the sleep of death in his favourite arm- 
 chair. 
 
 This event was natural ; but there was 
 another which, to the minds of his followers, 
 was quite unaccountable : his bottle of whisky 
 was only half empty ! 
 
 His son, the father of our Colonel, ran a 
 shorter, but more brilliant career. Distin- 
 guished and successful in the campaigns of 
 India, he was rewarded by the rank of 
 General, and returned to England in time to 
 accompany Sir John Moore to Portugal. 
 
 The last scene of that tragic act is knowTi to 
 all, and General Murray was one amidst the 
 many victims of Corunna. He fell by the side 
 of the gallant Moore, and, like him, found a 
 grave where he fell, and was laid 
 
 "With his martial cloak around him." 
 
 Of the Colonel, we need add but little more 
 
 by way of introduction. We have said that he 
 
 served under Wellington until the wearisome 
 
 days of general peace. That reader must be 
 
 D 3
 
 54 GLENLONELY. 
 
 dull indeed who does not conceive the feelings 
 of Colonel Murray after the battle of Waterloo. 
 He was a Highlander in heart ; and from that 
 heart was taken a deep and rankling thirst ; — 
 his father's death had been atoned ! 
 
 WTiat a thing of passions — of pure and spotted 
 pages — is the human heart ! The man who thus 
 fostered the spirit of revenge, who noted the 
 debt in one dark page, and blotted it out in the 
 blood of thousands ■ — the same gave to his wi- 
 dowed mother the lands of his inheritance, and 
 left to his parent and sisters the shelter and 
 protection of a home. 
 
 It is true that the family estate had decreased 
 from its original size : the regal hospitality of 
 the Colonel's grandfather vastly exceeded his 
 revenue, an evil which increased in proportion 
 to the length of his reign. He died a poor man, 
 a truth which no one dared to point at until his 
 death. Enough, however, remained to give the 
 necessary addition to the Colonel's pay, and 
 supply the wants and comforts of life to the 
 widow and her daughters. 
 
 We have now to sketch a being of another
 
 GLEXLONELY. 55 
 
 order : the task will be more difficult and less 
 pleasing. 
 
 Herbert Lindsay and Colonel George INIurray 
 were born in the same year. Their first breath 
 was borrowed from the mountain air, and their 
 earliest steps were amidst the stern beauties of 
 the land of their sires. 
 
 Alexander Melville Gordon, as we have 
 intimated, was ushered into life amidst the 
 pomps and luxuries of an eastern court. Early 
 in life his father had received a civil appoint- 
 ment, and quitted Scotland to pursue his fortune 
 in the then unexhausted soil of India. Consi- 
 derable talent and unwearied application shortly 
 realised his golden dreams, and placed him high 
 in favour with the Governor- General. 
 
 There seemed but one thinoj wanting : the 
 means of happiness are not the enjoyment; we 
 need some one to share in the joys of harvest: — 
 but the wily civilian knew the strength of his 
 position, and was fastidious in the choice of that 
 one being. Many a fair slave sold in the mar- 
 riage market of India turned from the trembling 
 vows of skin-dried age, and sighed for a pur- 
 D 4
 
 56 GLENLONELY. 
 
 chaser in the young, the rich, and honoured 
 Mr. Gordon ; but importations came and passed 
 away before the prize was won. 
 
 At length — these things are surely fated — 
 the destined freight arrived. A pair of eyes, 
 dark as night, and brighter than the stars which 
 light it, pierced the Gordon's shield, and made 
 him prisoner. 
 
 Scotchmen are not apt to surrender at dis- 
 cretion : he struggled hard against the first 
 assault ; he rallied the powers of habitual caution 
 — but in vain — the black eyes were much too 
 powerfully supported. 
 
 Ann Sybella Stuart had youth — which in 
 India is a host; she was not quite eighteen, 
 and with this, a figure tall, commanding, and 
 perfectly formed; her dark eye-brows sat like 
 a crown of majesty above features, marked, but 
 classically fine — she seemed born to rule — and 
 amidst the almost voluptuous fulness of her rosy 
 lips there lurked a curl of proud contempt, a 
 look which could repulse as powerfully as her 
 smile could charm. 
 
 A quickness and brilliancy of talent hid the
 
 GLENLONELY. 57 
 
 defect of an imperfect education. One base 
 object had been early displayed to dazzle and 
 degrade; — the wealthy Nabob — the man- Mam- 
 mon — was the spm* to all that was taught. With 
 this view the person was cultivated, and the 
 mind neglected; but the charms of the former 
 are palpable — they act as a dazzling veil to 
 cover the weeds or wilderness which may deface 
 tlie latter. 
 
 Then, again, this Ann Sybella Stuart was 
 highly, if distantly, connected. Cousins she 
 had without end, whom she vvas proud to re- 
 member, though many had forgotten her. 
 Amongst the titled, there were a few who con- 
 descended to recollect and wish her well ; nay, 
 even one noble duke was so anxious to start 
 his fair cousin, that he actually gave a ten pound 
 note to swell the stock of " cutty sarks" 
 necessary for the length of voyage. But there 
 was another ally of greater weight in the eyes 
 of the civilian. This was a letter from one of 
 his Majesty's Ministers to the Governor-General 
 and his lady, praying their marked attention 
 in behalf of his cousin. The writer had heard 
 D 5
 
 58 GLENLONELY. 
 
 of the Duke's generosity, but thinking letter 
 paper cheaper than that of the Bank of Eng- 
 land, he filled up one sheet, which — as he 
 doubtless intended — proved of much more 
 value than les chemises de voyage of his Grace. 
 
 There is no act which ought to be so decidedly 
 and exclusively a man's own as the choice of a 
 wife. He alone is blessed or cursed by the 
 result; yet in no one act is man more easily 
 or blindly swayed by the opinion of others. 
 Men make wives of actresses or dancers because 
 they are admired by thousands. The monarch's 
 smile, his notice for the evening, of some fair 
 beauty, has decided many a wavering lover. 
 Did we not believe that marriages were pre-or- 
 dained, we should say that man's judgment 
 was weakest where it should be strongest — 
 most influenced by others where it should de- 
 pend upon itself alone. 
 
 Gordon had amassed a fortune ; he had little 
 to wish in the way of promotion: but Ann Sybella 
 Stuart, as the favoured protegee at Court, shone 
 with reflected honours : to make her his wife 
 would be to win these honours to himself: — so
 
 GLEXLONELY. 59 
 
 at least he argued, to strengthen the bias of his 
 inclination, and blind to defects which less fa- 
 voured lovers had discovered. He proposed, — 
 was accepted ; signed with impatience a folio of 
 parchment, and the pretty name of Ann Sybella 
 Stuart was merged in that of Gordon. 
 
 In attempting the description of the mother 
 of Alexander Melville Gordon, we have said 
 that she seemed like a being formed to rule. 
 Within a few months from the wedding day, her 
 husband was a competent witness on this point 
 
 — he and his purse were ruled unmercifully. 
 But the ambition of this proud beauty was 
 
 too bounding to be stopped by the monosyllable 
 
 — home : she aimed at the admiration of all, 
 except her husband ; having married for wealth, 
 and exacted her price, she despised all other 
 offerings from the ill-fated purchaser. 
 
 Women, like merchandize, rise in value in 
 proportion to their scarcity. In India the market 
 is always ill supplied, and there they are wor- 
 shipped with a zeal unknown in other lands. 
 
 No wonder, then, that the beautiful Gordon 
 obtained the empire she sought. With wit and 
 D 6
 
 60 GLENLONELY. 
 
 tact which never failed — a smile of magic 
 power, and eyes which dazzled the wisest, and 
 warmed the coldest — she was irresistible. The 
 rebel army fell from their allegiance and obeyed 
 her will and beck ; her health was drunk before 
 the King's. He might be their head, but she 
 was their head and soul too. 
 
 This was an easy conquest: the soldier's 
 pay gave him no chance in the scramble for 
 wives. Gentlemen on the civil list, the planters 
 and dealers in indigo, monopolised these house- 
 hold ornaments, leaving the army the only al- 
 ternative of devoted homage to the wives of the 
 wealthy. 
 
 The spirit of rebellion spread — husbands 
 joined in the look of admiration ; and some evil 
 tongues declared that the Governor himself paid 
 to the fair Gordon a more marked attention 
 than he did to his Majesty's affairs. 
 
 Woe to the woman who dares to be singular ! 
 — who thinks, because she has talent and at- 
 traction above her fellows, she is placed above 
 the ties and decorums of the world. The pas- 
 sions of all, in different degrees, are the same;
 
 GLENLONELY. 61 
 
 the fire may be dormant and subdued, but 
 there it is ; — remove the sentinel, and who 
 shall say how soon, how suddenly, it may 
 kindle? The springs w^hich act upon the heart 
 are infinite and capricious as the links of 
 thought ; — the mourner's tear — the laughing 
 smile — the grave or banquet — the cold and 
 silent moon — the warmth and language of the 
 setting sun, — each, at its fitting time, can 
 reach the wayward heart. The train is always 
 laid — the spark is latent in the coldest flint ; 
 and who can predict the lightning's path ? — 
 and who of womankind be always safe if she 
 defy opinion and the show of virtue ? 
 
 We know not, we think not, that Ann Sy- 
 bella Gordon was guilty in the last degree ; — 
 we believe that her heart was cold w^hen her 
 eyes were flashing fire ; and this, we trust, pre- 
 served her. But, scorning the restraints of 
 woman, her words and actions gave to her 
 vanquished rivals the torch of scandal. Women 
 are always the first to condemn their own sex : 
 in this instance they were readily assisted by the 
 revenge of humbled coxcombs — men who
 
 62 GLENLONELY. 
 
 spread the dark reports for which they, at least, 
 knew there was no foundation. 
 
 That she was ungrateful we allow — most 
 ungrateful to Nature, who had been so bounti- 
 ful to her. She drank of the cup of flattery — 
 the homage of man — the excitement of society, 
 — till they became the food whereon she fed; and 
 when the same Nature ordained that she should 
 become a mother, she felt aggrieved by the ne- 
 cessity of retiring from the glories of her world. 
 
 During this temporary eclipse she gave birth 
 to her first-born — a feeble and delicate daughter. 
 Most mothers conceive a double affection for 
 the child that is sickly or deformed ; — it is 
 the appeal of helplessness which looks for sym- 
 pathy where alone it can be hoped for. Mrs. 
 Gordon aimed at singularity, and formed an 
 exception to the general rule — she utterly 
 neglected her daughter. Either the poor inno- 
 cent was not forgiven for interrupting her career 
 of pleasure, or there was the germ of deadlier 
 feeling. 
 
 Young as Mrs. Gordon was, nothing had 
 escaped her observation : she had remarked the
 
 GLENLONELY. 63 
 
 painful rivalship between young mammas and 
 their daughters; she foresaw the diflSculty of 
 confining to the nursery a bouncing girl of 
 seventeen. " But," whispered some demon in 
 her ear, " if it should please Heaven to take the 
 sufferer, what misery might be spared ! " 
 
 Some six weeks after the birth of her first- 
 born, as the mother returned to her home, 
 wearied with the late pleasures of the dance, 
 she remarked a mournful anxiety in the attend- 
 ants who received her. Upon inquiry, she 
 heard that her child was dead. " Sweet inno- 
 cent ! " she exclaimed, for the first time ; and, 
 having retired to her couch, her sleep was more 
 than usually sound. 
 
 A somewhat premature birth of a second 
 daughter was attended with similar, though 
 quicker, result. We have reason to believe 
 that it was on this occasion a poet of the East 
 wrote that terse and simple epigram, 
 
 " What were we begun for, 
 To be so soon clone for ! ! " 
 
 In the fourth year of her marriage there was
 
 64 GLENLONELY. 
 
 a change for the better ; — the birth of a son 
 appeared to wake the source of maternal feeling : 
 either this, or little Master Alexander Melville 
 Gordon was born under auspices of a brighter 
 star than his sisters. His mother might have 
 deemed her empire waning — have sickened from 
 satiety — -have found, too late, the latent fire in 
 the ice of her proud heart. The combinations 
 of fortune are unfathomable to human eye. 
 Whatever the cause, Mrs. Gordon devoted her- 
 self to the wants of her boy ; and, to atone for 
 the past, contrived to spoil him in every pos- 
 sible way. 
 
 We are really distressed, for the reader's 
 sake, that he did not come into the world 
 before his two sisters. We hate to be tedious : 
 and, while relating the truth, we have more than 
 once wished he had been an enfant trouve, — one 
 of those orphans of the world who have none 
 to bless for existence save the Creator of all 
 things; but having, most provokingly, both 
 a father and mother of this world, we feh 
 bound in honour to state his origin. One 
 consolation remains : — in painting the evil
 
 GLENLONELY. 65 
 
 passions of the mother, we may have shown 
 how the sins of the parent are perpetuated in 
 the offspring ; how the weakness of the mother, 
 who gratifies, without control, the wishes of 
 the child, fosters the seeds of future misery in 
 the man. 
 
 Poor Mr. Gordon, the wealthy civilian, had 
 become a cipher ; his wife stood first, and 
 was the figure which made the sum-total in 
 his house. Death, however, unexpected and 
 sudden, turned the balance in the husband's 
 favour, and hurried the wife to her last 
 account. 
 
 Mrs. Gordon had given one of her wild 
 parties, to celebrate the anniversary of her 
 son. Flushed with joy and champagne, she 
 lingered on the lovely spot she had selected ; 
 and, fearless of those exhalations which rise 
 at sunset, she mounted the curricle of the 
 handsome Colonel Anson, playfully snatched 
 the reins from his hands, and drove to her 
 home. 
 
 Within eight-and-forty hours she was a 
 corpse. Attacked by fever, fierce as the rays
 
 66 GLENLONELY. 
 
 which gave it birth — her skin was parched — 
 the brain was fired — and in the agonies of 
 raving madness she expired. 
 
 This event leads us directly to the being 
 whom we have promised to describe. Master 
 Gordon quickly perceived the loss he had sus- 
 tained ; a father's authority was assumed, and, 
 it might be, with more sternness and rapidity 
 than was wise. 
 
 The spoiled and pampered pet was imme- 
 diately treated with severity, which bordered 
 upon cruelty ; the result was a cordial hatred of 
 his father, with a dogged opposition to his will. 
 
 Having pursued the experiment for two 
 years, Mr. Gordon was finally convinced of 
 his error. His countryman and friend. Ge- 
 neral Murray, had been ordered to England, 
 and, availing himself of this opportunity, he 
 placed his son under the guardianship of the 
 General. 
 
 Mr. Gordon had, from time to time, re- 
 mitted portions of his wealth, and purchased 
 an estate adjoining the Murrays'. It in- 
 cluded a portion of land, which by tradition
 
 GLENLONELY. 67 
 
 had belonged to his family : hereupon was 
 raised a domicile worthy of future generations 
 of Gordons. Unfortunately, the architect pos- 
 sessed more pride than taste ; and having 
 constructed a square turreted house, with a 
 pepper-box at each angle, the fabric was styled 
 Calender Castle ; — a name which raised many 
 a joke at the expense of the owner. 
 
 Mr. Gordon was a descendant of the Mac 
 
 Mountain clan, which in the year ~ was 
 
 suppressed, and the very name forbidden. A 
 name, however, is essential for all things, and 
 the Messieurs Mac Mountain adopted such 
 as suited their fancy or interest. Mr. Gordon 
 was not quite the lineal descendant of their 
 chieftain — but he was near enough to think 
 he might claim to be the head of the nameless 
 — and, in consideration of his wealth and 
 knighthood, be styled Sir John Mac Mountain 
 Gordon. 
 
 The same vanity which led to this assump- 
 tion had decided in favour of the handsome 
 protegee as wife ; but the present consequences 
 were less fatal to his happiness. It was soon
 
 68 GLENLONELY. 
 
 found out, that if not the true laird, he was 
 a kind one. He still retained a smattering of 
 Erse, which in boyhood he had spoken : this 
 had great weight with his tenantry ; and if 
 the architect had not selected the blue stone 
 of the country, we doubt whether they would 
 have thought of converting Calender Castle 
 into Indigo Hall. This, however, was a harm- 
 less joke, more especially as it never reached 
 the ears of Mac Mountain. 
 
 We cannot in conscience dispose of the 
 chieftain so rapidly as we did of his wife ; but, 
 having lodged him in his castle, we must pro- 
 ceed, as we promised, by going back to the 
 hopeful son. 
 
 The kindness of General Murray placed the 
 young Gordon under his own roof, and allowed 
 him to share the benefits of his son's tutor. 
 In the absence of the General, the gentle 
 firmness of Mrs. Murray had more weight 
 than the stern severity of his father; the boy 
 became more tractable, and the outpourings 
 of passion, terrific though in miniature, be- 
 came less and less frequent. The comparative
 
 GLENLONELY. 69 
 
 solitude in which he lived, — the solemn wild- 
 ness of the Highlands — engendered thought. 
 His playfellows, Herbert Lindsay and George 
 Murray, each one year younger than himself, 
 were his superiors in knowledge and the sports 
 of a young mountaineer. Stung with shame, 
 hatred and jealousy were nursed, but not be- 
 trayed ; he had time to reason on the weakness 
 of violence — he exerted his latent powers, 
 and hoped in silence for the pleasure of re- 
 venge — by outstripping his rivals. 
 
 No error is more fatal than to deem as 
 nothing the passions of infancy, because their 
 effect is trivial ; or that, because our sheer force 
 is so comparatively gigantic, we can crush the 
 little hydra, or scarcely feel its venom. 
 
 It is difficult to say how early the evil of 
 our nature is not apparent ; or how early the 
 perception of right and wrong may not be in- 
 stilled. Many a little brother would throttle, 
 if he could, his infant sister, — the intruder 
 who dared to divide his mother's affection. 
 We are too apt to smile at the attempt — yet 
 what is this but the murderer in miniature?
 
 70 GLENLONELY. 
 
 What is the cruelty of children to animals — 
 the selfish enjoyment of their sweets — their 
 combat for a toy, — what are these but the 
 assassin — the tyrant — the miser and heart- 
 less — the slaughterer of thousands for a 
 bubble or a crown, — what are they all but the 
 miniature of the worst and deadliest crimes 
 which stain the annals of man himself ? 
 
 Forgive the digression : in touching upon 
 the boyhood of Gordon, we would not be 
 thought to exaggerate, and we feel convinced 
 that we have not done so. 
 
 We are prone, in our vast superiority, to 
 overlook the depth of feeling and thought in 
 children. Man becomes a being of habit and 
 imitation. In after life few think for them- 
 selves : children do ; and consequently there is 
 often a depth and originality in their ideas 
 which startle the aged : questions are put, 
 which, with all our wisdom, we have learnt 
 to parry and not to answer. 
 
 The three boys, — Lindsay, Murray, and 
 Gordon, — were so drawn together by simi- 
 larity of age, that they could not be otherwise
 
 GLEXLONELY. 71 
 
 than intimate. The two former had ever been 
 inseparable ; the latter received a Highland 
 welcome when he arrived, and was admitted 
 at once to their pleasures and their studies. 
 
 By degrees he became almost, if not quite, 
 a favourite. If at times he w^as moody and 
 reserved, — if his beautiful features were dis- 
 torted by the Avorkings of passion, they shortly 
 regained their brighter cast, — the record of 
 evil was effaced. He inherited the magic of 
 his mother's smile. 
 
 With Murray's sisters he was decidedly a 
 favourite. Though the spirit of rivalship had 
 led him to join and excel in the sports of boy- 
 hood, the land of the East had breathed a 
 language, — an Italian dole e far niente in his 
 soul — which fitted him for woman's love. ISIanv 
 a day, when Lindsay and Murray were abroad 
 with their gun or rods, Gordon was the slave 
 — the doer of sweet nothings — the favoured 
 companion of the three sisters and the lovelier 
 protegee of Lord Glenlonely. 
 
 At Eton the intimacy of the boys was rather 
 strengthened than weakened. Entered at the
 
 72 GLENLONELY. 
 
 same time — placed in the same remove — cir- 
 cumstances still combined to make them 
 friends. Herbert Lindsay resided with his 
 private tutor, Mr. Majendie, a gentleman as 
 well as scholar; one who, having seen much 
 of the world, and being himself an Etonian, 
 knew perfectly how to blend relaxation with 
 instruction. 
 
 If young Gordon became more reserved, or 
 more frequently wandered by himself, he 
 always remembered the comforts and ad- 
 vantages to be found at a private tutor's. 
 The hour of breakfast was not forgotten ; or 
 if some passage required explanation, he knew 
 where it would be kindly given, and Mr. 
 Majendie received his visit. 
 
 In the course of time Lindsay and Murray, 
 though still inseparable, increased their list of 
 friends ; and, guided by the judgment and 
 penetration of Lindsay's tutor, laid the founda- 
 tion of a valuable connection in after life. 
 Gordon, of course, had the same advantage ; 
 but he made no friends, or, rather, the friends 
 he made he shortly flung aside, as he would a
 
 GLENLONELY. 73 
 
 book which he had read. In case of need 
 they were referred to : their value was re- 
 corded in the head, but they found no place 
 in his heart. 
 
 He probably sought, but in vain, for a spirit 
 congenial to his own. In the dark workings 
 of his mind, he strove to penetrate the feelings 
 of others, — to analyse the motives of their 
 actions. He thirsted for the knowledge of 
 the human heart, and mastered languages to 
 obtain it. He searched the annals of the dead, 
 for he found none like himself amongst the 
 living. He drank in the pages which told how 
 the genius of one ruled the destiny of millions; 
 — how results became possible by scorning the 
 timid glance of the world, which dared not 
 look upon the means. He felt a hatred and 
 contempt of his fellows ; but he knew not why. 
 He wondered at their happiness and bright 
 content; for he felt them not. As all are 
 prone to do in studying others, he looked not 
 within himself: there was the poison hidden, and 
 it met no antidote. 
 
 Hours and hours were devoted to chemistry 
 
 VOL. 1. E
 
 74 GLENLONELY. 
 
 — he read — he felt it was yet a science in its 
 infancy ; he saw it was the lock which closed 
 the mysteries of nature, and he sought for the 
 key which should open its dark and hidden 
 depths — he beheld a law, unvarying and im- 
 mutable for all things — that in itself, nothing 
 was chance ; that the combinations and changes 
 of to-day must be to-morrow ; that the same, 
 in like cases, always occurred. He read but 
 harmony in the thunders of the cloud, in the 
 lightning bursting from its womb — he saw 
 there was a path for the bounding of the 
 forked light, marked — ordained — before cre- 
 ation ; the powers of attraction and repul- 
 sion had been balanced and prescribed ; its 
 steps were certain as those of the gentle 
 moon or fiery comet. Undazzled and daring 
 as the magicians of old, he looked upon the 
 electric stream, and said in his heart, " Thy 
 course shall be tracked ! " 
 
 In fancy, he had proved its existence in 
 us and all around us; had traced its mystic 
 flowing through the veins of the trembling 
 needle — in the blood of man — the quiver-
 
 GLENLONELY. 75 
 
 ing nerves, and the down upon the cheek 
 — in the living and the dead — the dead ! — 
 and that one word was volumes of thought 
 for the mind of Gordon : the doom of de- 
 cay and corruption — the never-ceasing work 
 of destruction — the gentlest in creation prey- 
 ing upon creation — life wonderfully made, 
 yet formed to be destroyed ! These are the 
 regions of thought, where the young require 
 the wisdom of age : they trespass on the 
 brink of utter darkness, where all who wander 
 perish. 
 
 No wonder that Gordon, too proud to lean 
 upon a guide, was lost in error ; that he 
 questioned the Deity, and doubted eternity. 
 
 His jubilee was night, his spirits bounded 
 on the shadow of darkness and flew to the 
 countless worlds, " the beautiful lamps of hea- 
 ven :" he laughed to scorn the vanity of man 
 who gives his name to a star — one amidst 
 infinity beyond ; but is the weakness of 
 others wisdom to ourselves? He scorned the 
 proud astronomer, he looked down upon him, 
 but could see no further ; he imaged that dis- 
 E 2
 
 76 GLENLONELY. 
 
 tant world which bore his name, and, dwelling 
 there, again he looked on worlds innumerable ; 
 — but he knew not that it was so, — for who 
 can image the depth of immeasurable space? 
 He saw much, but dimly — he felt that know- 
 ledge was power, but paused not to reflect, 
 that both are dangerous when applied in 
 ignorance. No wonder that he looked upon 
 life as the struggle for self, and nearly blew 
 up his tutor's house in the course of his 
 experiments. 
 
 We grant that this intensity of thought is 
 unusual in boyhood, but are certain that we 
 have painted rather below than above the 
 truth. We have watched the young Gordon 
 in his sports, and noticed his moments of ab- 
 straction ; we have known him return to 
 his home and pass the hour of dinner in 
 penning the unearthly wanderings of his 
 muse. One quotation might avail more than 
 all we have written, but, mixed with the 
 beauties of wild sublimity, there is a daring 
 imagery, a subtilty of theory and vision, which 
 prevent us from making them known.
 
 GLENLONELY. 77 
 
 The reader must be content to doubt or 
 believe our word, and doubtless he will be- 
 lieve us, when we add that Gordon found no 
 kindred soul amongst his companions. With 
 Lindsay and Mm-ray there was still the link 
 of circumstances — with those under his own 
 roof there was still the power to sway and 
 charm when he chose. With the mass he 
 had nothing in common : they could not enter 
 into his spirit, nor he into theirs ; they deemed 
 him mad, and he despised them as foo's ; they 
 were at enmity with each other. Singly they 
 dared not insult him, for there was a method 
 in his madness which taught repentance; but 
 the herd unite against the stricken, and men, 
 like brutes, envy the strongest, and trample 
 on the weak. 
 
 There might have been some kindly yearn- 
 ings in the breast of Gordon, seeds of 
 humanity, choked but not dead ; warmed 
 by the kindness of his fellows, they might 
 have been called to light ; but, conscious 
 of his own superiority, stung by the injus- 
 tice of imputed madness, by the cruelty, if 
 E 3
 
 78 GLENLONELY. 
 
 he were mad, of taunting the afflicted, his 
 rage was boundless. Like Tasso's gaoler, 
 they all but raised the demon which they 
 said was in him. We have seen him sur- 
 rounded — hooted — baited like a maddened 
 bull; we have heard the deep agony of that 
 tortured beast, rising, as it seemed, from 
 beneath the bloody sod; but never did we 
 hear a sound so piercing, so awful and 
 unearthly, as the shriek of Gordon in the 
 paroxysm of revengeful anger. 
 
 This did not occur often; the elder boys 
 united to prevent such heartless attacks ; Lind- 
 say and Murray were at his side. Gordon 
 himself, if cowardly by nature — if want- 
 ing in chivalry — became bold in the spirit 
 of reasoning ; he singled out the ring- 
 leader, a boy bigger than himself, and having 
 conquered one, he awed the rest, and was 
 molested no more. But the past he never 
 forgave : — the kindly seeds withered in his 
 breast, and left but the deadly weeds of hatred. 
 
 To the two friends of his home, an excep- 
 tion might have continued, but for an act
 
 GLENLONELY. 79 
 
 of injustice on the part of the head master — 
 we were going to say, of the great tyrant 
 of the school, but he was rather weak than 
 tyrannical. 
 
 A weak monarch can do more mischief 
 than a clever tyrant. Dr. Josslym was a 
 courtier, and his sphere should have been 
 St. James's ; — as chamberlain to the Queen, 
 as groom of the bedchamber, he would have 
 been perfection ; as the head master of Eton 
 he betrayed his fallibility. Though not dis- 
 tinguished as a scholar, he could go through 
 his part with credit to himself and profit to 
 his pupils; but, in such a station, more, 
 much more, is wanting than mere learning ; — 
 knowledge of the world, firmness of charac- 
 ter, and the strictest impartiality. These are 
 amongst the number, and here the worthy 
 Doctor was wanting. His knowledge of the 
 world was confined to one view, his own promo- 
 tion : in case of tumult or rebellion, tears were 
 the poor substitute for firmness ; and on all 
 occasions he betrayed his worship of a titled 
 E 4
 
 80 GLENLONELY. 
 
 name — he flogged the commoner, and kissed 
 the hem of a duke. 
 
 We have mentioned that Gordon, Lindsay, 
 and Murray arrived at Eton together; their 
 reading had been similar, their ages were 
 nearly equal, and they vv^ere naturally placed 
 in the same part of the school. Gordon, how- 
 ever, being the eldest by one year, was first 
 upon the list. 
 
 In the course of time the usual trials and 
 promotions were about to take place. Pre- 
 viously to this, Lindsay's tutor, anxious for the 
 honours of his pupil, waited upon the learned 
 Doctor, and ventured to say that he thought 
 Lindsay had been placed lower than his merits 
 deserved. It probably was so ; and if it were 
 the case wdth Lindsay, it certainly vras also 
 with Gordon. Mr. Majendie was too honour- 
 able to omit his name, — his case was pleaded 
 with that of his pupil. 
 
 The trials came on : the spur of ambition 
 roused the energies of Gordon: his element 
 was poetry ; to this and all proposed he gave 
 the touch of genius ; and though his labours were
 
 GLENLONELY. 81 
 
 finished, while many a boy was " scratching his 
 head" for a thought, his papers won the words 
 of highest praise. 
 
 Lindsay was equally successful in the ap- 
 pendix given to his efforts ; but to the Hon. 
 Herbert Lindsay were added a smirk and a 
 smile, some pleasant words and empty witticism, 
 which, of course, were applauded by the anxious 
 candidates who hailed the Doctor's smile as a 
 happy omen, and forced a respectful laugh at 
 the joke they could not read. 
 
 A few days decided the fate of all; Gordon 
 was promoted to the first in his form ; the 
 Hon. Herbert was raised from that to the one 
 above, or, in the language of college, he gained 
 the honour of a double remove. 
 
 Gordon was stung to the quick ; he felt that 
 he was wronged, and knew there was no appeal ; 
 he despised his master, and hated his rival ; 
 the principle of utter selfishness in all was fixed : 
 he retreated within himself, and in that dark 
 barrier swore to be revenged — that he never 
 would forgive. 
 
 The sequel of these pages will show how far his 
 E 5
 
 8*2 Gl^ENLONELY. 
 
 VOW was accomplished towards the innocent and 
 amiable Lindsay. Ere we pass to Oxford, we 
 may here state, that the hour of retribution fell 
 upon the Doctor, in spite of his wig and tri- 
 cornered hat. 
 
 Where there is no appeal there is apt to be 
 conspiracy. Gordon watched his opportunity ; 
 he collected the embers of discontent, and 
 fostered a flame ; the Lilliputians were in arms, 
 in open rebellion against their giant ruler, and 
 Gordon was their leader ! Each succeeding 
 day widened the breach, and rendered the 
 Doctor's position more perilous. Wavering and 
 weak, he threatened, but had not the courage 
 to execute ; wanting the firmness of man, he 
 turned to woman's weapon, and wept abundantly 
 — yes — with flowing tears he appealed to 
 Gordon, implored his influence, and promised 
 forgiveness. 
 
 Had not the Doctor's eyes been swimming in 
 tears, he must have seen the laughing sneer 
 which was Gordon's only answer; none who 
 saw it, could forget it. Gordon's triumph was 
 complete ; turning to his brethren in arms, he
 
 GLENLONELY. 83 
 
 made them the organs of peace ; for himself he 
 despised his enemy too bitterly to hold com- 
 munion with the vanquished. 
 
 Shortly after this the hour arrived for bid- 
 ding farewell to Eton and her weak, but kind- 
 hearted, chief. There is a mean and degrading 
 practice of putting a fee into the master's hand 
 as he gives the parting squeeze of affection. A 
 five, ten, or twenty pound note is presented, 
 according to the means, inclination, or memento 
 of floggings received; the amount is optional. 
 Gordon gladly seized this opportunity of evinc- 
 ing his respect ; and having deposited the looked 
 for bequest, he once more repeated his laughing 
 bitter sneer, and said — " Adieu ! " 
 
 This time the Doctor saw it, and the budding 
 joke withered on his tongue. When Gordon's 
 back was turned he opened the soft envelope, 
 and found — a farthing I 
 
 Previously to this Murray had left the cradle 
 of classic lore, and entered the school of iron 
 warfare : the parting from Lindsay was a heavy 
 trial. Misery is comparative as well as happi- 
 ness, and this was their first young grief — they 
 E 6
 
 84 GLENLONELY. 
 
 had never been separated — they were more 
 than brothers to each other, for the affections 
 are strongest when free ; being born of the same 
 mother forms a moral necessity of peace, but 
 not of the bond of love. If, however, they 
 were inconsolable for a time, their future meet- 
 ings were doubly valued. Neither vras the 
 parting from Gordon free from pain; they 
 had never quarrelled : if his theories, wild and 
 daring, sometimes horrified the calmer reason 
 of the intended warrior, their bold spirit of 
 enterprise was a feeling in common ; they 
 were dwellers in the same land ; the force and 
 link of habit had made them as brothers ; as 
 yet the tie remained. 
 
 To continue the career of Gordon to the 
 period of quitting Oxford, we have only to add, 
 that the same principle of self — the same 
 unflinching determination — the same thirst- 
 in or for knowledoje — ojuided his conduct and 
 pursuits. 
 
 By a singular coincidence he was once 
 more opposed to Lindsay in the struggle for 
 honours, and a second time Lindsay's name
 
 GLENLONELY. 85 
 
 was first; not from injustice this time, but 
 rather from the bigotry of our mother Uni- 
 versity. 
 
 Dear good old soul ! a kind and fostering 
 mother she has been, infusing the stream of 
 piety and learning when darkness and famine 
 were around ; — she has fattened upon her own 
 milk, — her children have rewarded her with 
 riches and honours. Pampered and proud in 
 her old age, she closes her eyes to the changes 
 in the world ; she will not see that the 
 children of this day will neither be swaddled 
 nor bound as of old — that they will have the 
 free use of their faculties and limbs ; there is a 
 march of intellect which nothing can oppose : 
 the term may be hackneyed and laughed at; but 
 it is a powerful expression oi the truth; and our 
 universities and public schools are beginning 
 to feel, and shortly must be convinced of, the 
 necessity of change. They must enlarge their 
 views, open their sleepy eyes, and reform the 
 defects of education : do this, and they will be 
 what they have been — the fountains of light : 
 do it not, and the spirit of the day will reverse
 
 86 GLENLONELY. 
 
 their doom — they will be darkness in the midst 
 of light. 
 
 Lindsay, docile and gentle by nature, pur- 
 sued the track which was pointed out. His 
 elegance of thought and powers of language, 
 nay, the very sw^eetness of his tone, added force 
 as well as charm to all he uttered : he loaded 
 with flowers the fruit that was set before him, 
 adding beauty to its worth. 
 
 Gordon, on the contrary, wandered boldly 
 from the beaten track ; he took nothing for 
 granted; he lived with the living as well as with 
 the dead. The best of the century past might 
 be the worst of the present ; — the best in his 
 native tongue might be surpassed in another. 
 There was no longer one common garb for the 
 thoughts of all men ; the Roman's voice was 
 no longer universal ; nations spoke in a 
 language of their own, and planted the tree of 
 knowledge in their native soil. The restless 
 spirit of Gordon traversed the globe, and 
 gathered of the fruit : it might be good, but it 
 was not orthodox; it might not enter the scale 
 of the examiner, for he knew it not, — he had
 
 GLENLONELY. 87 
 
 not dared to taste thereof; and it might be 
 poison; for a certainty it was not orthodox. 
 It was flung aside; and Gordon, with all his 
 wealth of sciences and knowledge, was declared 
 second to his rival Lindsay. Thus was the 
 feeling planted by injustice, watered by bigotry, 
 and the vow of vengeance confirmed in its 
 growth. 
 
 As he looked upon his judges he foresaw his 
 fate ; for one moment the mask of beauty fell 
 from his features, and he looked the demon — 
 the next he was calm. In his worship of self, 
 his thirst for sway, he had learnt the power 
 of self-command ; the random spark which had 
 nearly destroyed his life and his tutor*s house 
 had taught this worldly wisdom. Passions, like 
 the powers of chemistry, must be under con- 
 trol, if we hope to direct their force. 
 
 The problem with which we started has, we 
 think, been proved : we must, however, add to 
 the length of our proof, and give a short de- 
 scription of Alexander Melville Gordon at this 
 period of life. 
 
 He inherited the beauty of his mother : the
 
 68 GLENLONELY* 
 
 outline of his features was the same, but cast 
 in the mould of man. His figure was tallj 
 slight, but powerful ; colour he had none, but 
 the clear olive of the East scarcely veiled the 
 blue veins upon his brow ; though the rose 
 was w^anting, circulation was not ; we have seen 
 the throbbing vessels fill, and marked the nos- 
 trils spread, showing the ruby blood like the 
 breathless racer; but this was in moments of un- 
 governable passion — the outpourings of youth: 
 as he advanced in years, calmness and self- 
 possession w^ere the general expression. In the 
 beauty of the eyes he even surpassed his mother; 
 if he had caught the complexion of the East, 
 there also he stole the diamond of the eye ; — 
 full, large, and black as the raven of his locks, 
 yet softened by the silken lashes, they seemed 
 to win the gaze of others, like the serpent's 
 magic. The word is apt : there was similitude 
 in other points than this. As usual, when the 
 eye is prominent, his vision was somewhat de- 
 fective : owing to this, he had acquired the habit 
 of slightly stooping in directing his attention, 
 and raising his form when satisfied. His en-
 
 GLENLONELY. 89 
 
 trance to a room was the serpent personified. 
 The image, though true, may not be famihar, 
 as it is not every one who has had the honour 
 of a serpent's visit. They who have — in India 
 there are many — must remember the graceful 
 windings of the noiseless reptile — the pause at 
 the threshold — the raising its form to the ut- 
 most — the glance around, which seems to sail 
 upon the air, — all these were Gordon's ; the 
 grace and gliding of his silent step — a mo- 
 mentary pause — the calm, yet piercing, eye — 
 the form erect, — he seemed the very serpent.
 
 90 GLENLONELY. 
 
 CHAP. IV. 
 OUR COMMON LOT. 
 
 It is not in the chance of human things. 
 
 Who stakes his all must lose. Thou doating tool ! 
 
 To think that Destiny can change its rule ! 
 
 Does not the granite crumble into dust ? 
 
 The oak decay ? the iron turn to rust ? 
 
 Death and destruction is the doom on earth ; 
 
 In heaven alone eternity has birth. 
 
 A. Bird. 
 
 Our task is finished — we have painted the 
 evil one, and now our fingers feel as light 
 as if we had cast an iron gauntlet aside — as 
 light and lighter than our spirits ; — how we 
 could dash along ! Don't be frightened, gen- 
 tle reader, we promise to be merciful ; we will 
 avoid the railroad of writing, lest the pace 
 make you blind to our beauties. 
 
 If the intended marriage between Herbert 
 Lindsay and the lovely Emily St. Clair formed
 
 GLENLONELY. 91 
 
 the theme of many an idle chit-chat, the sud- 
 den rupture was a still richer fund to draw 
 upon. It was a mine of on dits, — dark, myste- 
 rious, and inexhaustible, — for more than even 
 seven days. In the first place, the birth, pa- 
 rentage, and history of Emily St. Clair were a 
 blank to the busy world ; but such a blank 
 became a prize in the hands of the ignorant. 
 Ignorant, did we say? the world is never ig- 
 norant, for where it knows not the truth it 
 invents twenty thousand facts, which beggar 
 truth itself, and leave it at a distance. 
 
 Emily St. Clair was received into the family 
 of Lord Glenlonely shortly after his marriage. 
 She was then scarcely two years of age — 
 beautiful as the cherubs we picture — and 
 coming like a fairy in the night, she seemed 
 as the type of his Lordship's paradise. At the 
 stroke of the fell destroyer, the fabric of his 
 happiness passed; his Eden became a desert 
 — the spring of joy was dried up, and every 
 flower had withered — nothing was spared but 
 the smiles of his cherub. As the exile driven 
 from his home snatches in his flight one lovely
 
 92 GLEN LONELY. 
 
 flower, in remembrance of the past, so be- 
 loved, so cherished, was the beautiful Emily. 
 
 Lady Glenlonely perished in becoming a 
 mother, and before her sufferings were re- 
 paid by clasping her first-born to her bosom. 
 Sinking and exhausted, she felt that the lamp 
 of life was fluttering ; that a little while, and 
 a mother's hope would be shadowed in the 
 darkness of the grave ! 
 
 That moment of trial was the Christian's 
 triumph, but the struggle was severe. To 
 be so loved on earth — to see the anguish of a 
 husband, so dear and so devoted — to touch the 
 goal of promised bliss, and yet not win the 
 race — to perish in the lap of youth, riches, 
 all that could link an erring child to its 
 earthly home, and yet to be resigned ! this 
 was no common trial ; the victory was won, 
 but not without a struggle. She prayed for 
 strength ; she asked in the name of her Saviour, 
 and was heard ; she pointed to the Father's 
 home, where death has no dominion. 
 
 "'Tis there," said the dying Christian, " 'tis 
 only there, we can hope to meet and part no
 
 GLENLONELY. 93 
 
 more ; on earth we have been too blessed, 
 we dreamt not of an hour like this. The 
 gift we asked, the child of our prayers, might 
 have weaned the mother from her heavenly 
 Father; we watched not the flight of the 
 arrow, and doubly keen is the blow which 
 comes in the night, and wakes us from the 
 dream of bliss ; but the punishment is just ! 
 Yes, Glenlonely, we have loved too well on 
 earth; 1 feel that the penance is death, and 
 to that decree we must bow with resis^nation." 
 
 Poor Glenlonely heard the faint tones of 
 her who was his all on earth ; he knelt by 
 the couch ; utterance was choked ; but he 
 watched the lips of the dying, and joined in 
 his heart the prayer which she breathed. 
 
 He clasped her to his bosom, as if he could 
 snatch her from the hands of death ; he folded 
 his arms around her for protection, and hoped, 
 fond dreamer ! she might yet be spared. 
 
 Sweet was the short interval of rest she 
 tasted then. She was not deceived — she felt 
 that her doom was sealed ; but never on that 
 bosom had she been so happy, for her dream
 
 94 GLENLONELY. 
 
 was now of life immortal: gathering her 
 sinking force, she made another effort to 
 speak : she had read the hope which was written 
 in her husband's look ; she could not say it 
 false, but fondly, mournfully shaking her 
 head, she pointed to the heavens, and said, — 
 '* Our meeting will be there ! Should I live to 
 give birth to the life within me, let it be to 
 Emily as a brother or sister; be a father to 
 her as you would to the child of our union; 
 reveal to no living being the sorrows of her 
 birth ; as my last request, I ask you to spare 
 the name of her mother." 
 
 We will not dwell on the remaining hours of 
 Lady Glenlonely; she spoke but little after- 
 wards; the principle of life within the womb 
 wrestled with the slayer of all things ; ex- 
 piring nature strove to the last; and amidst 
 the throes and agonies of death, Herbert 
 Lindsay received the breath of life. 
 
 The mind of Lord Glenlonely was stunned 
 by the blow of affliction; he shed no tears ^ 
 he was deaf to the voice of his child ; a torpor 
 had benumbed his heart; a vision of utter
 
 GLENLONELY. 95 
 
 wretchedness pressed upon his brain, but he 
 deemed it false ; he struggled to awake, and 
 cast out the demon of despair. 
 
 Such were the first effects of this sad and 
 unexpected loss : beloved by his attendants, 
 every want was supplied which affection could 
 suggest; but their attentions were unheeded, 
 or taken, like his meals, mechanically. 
 
 In rendering the last homage to the remains 
 of Lady Glenlonely, he stood as a mourner 
 unmoved. Not even the dull echo from the 
 coffin, when the clammy earth answ^ers to the 
 words, " Dust to dust," — not even this, could 
 rouse Glenlonely : every eye was wet but 
 his ; young hearts sobbed aloud, touched by 
 the voice of the grave; Glenlonely alone 
 was calm ; he watched till the earth had 
 closed upon the dead, then, looking on the 
 mourners around, he smiled at their grief, — 
 he thought them deceived, — he deemed the 
 reality a vision. 
 
 Who has not dreamed, and said to himself, 
 " It is but a dream?" — Who has not fought 
 with the nightmare of his thoughts, and awoke
 
 96 GLENLONELY. 
 
 in the struggle to be free? Such was the 
 impression upon Lord Glenlonely's mind ; 
 but, alas ! it was no dream. Such were the 
 efforts he made to awake; but, alas ! in doing 
 this, he only looked upon reality. 
 
 His Lordship was still young, and the 
 powers of life gradually recovered from the 
 shock they had sustained ; reason resumed her 
 throne, and endeavoured to bend the mind to 
 resignation. 
 
 There is in nature an elasticity — an im- 
 mortal germ of regeneration. She sleeps in 
 the shadow of night, or the mantle of snow ; 
 she is bowed by the storms and buffetings of 
 the changing world, but she weathers them all : 
 she answers to the call of the rising sun, 
 leaps into life at the touch of spring ; again she 
 is clad in her joyous smile; and again and again, 
 with the voice of a syren, she calls on the living 
 to rejoice. Dead, indeed, must be the heart 
 which heeds not the appeal. The kingdom of 
 nature is on earth — the immortality of man 
 above. But there is a sympathy between the 
 two. Man in his pilgrimage treads the path of
 
 GLENLONELY. 97 
 
 checkered days ; in mind and body alternately 
 depressed and raised, till, at last, the pilgrim 
 sinks to rise no more, and his soul escapes the 
 prison of corruption. 
 
 It was a glorious morning in the month of 
 May that Lord Glenlonely first awoke to the 
 fiill perception of his loss. For months he had 
 been confined to his couch, till at length the 
 fever was subdued, and he slowly recovered his 
 strength. With returning health he resumed 
 his walks ; and, one by one, each favourite 
 haunt was visited. Still, however, he wandered 
 as a dreamer in the land; happier, perchance, 
 than when the cloud had passed, and the light 
 of reason was restored. 
 
 Cheered by the brightness of the day, there 
 was a lightness in his step, a buoyancy in 
 the sparkling eye, which was in harmony with 
 the happiness around. He pursued his course 
 through a winding dell, which suddenly opened 
 upon a small but beautiful lake; one of those 
 Highland gems, set, like an emerald, in the 
 bosom of her mountains. Excepting one nar- 
 row approach, it was completely inclosed by 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 98 GLENLONELY. 
 
 surrounding rocks. In one part, nearly per- 
 pendicular, they raised their pinnacles like the 
 ruins of a chieftain's tower; in another, they 
 had fostered the trees of the forest and the 
 heather of the hills till their sterner character 
 Avas lost, or only betrayed by some pointed 
 spire, some dark overhanging mass, which 
 frowned amidst the blossoms of spring. Op- 
 posite the entrance was seen the source which 
 fed the lake, — a crystal stream, leaping from 
 crag to crag, silvered in its flight, till, wearied, 
 at length it gained the lake, and sank to 
 repose. In the centre of this was one small 
 island, rich w^itli the varied hues of golden 
 moss, and studded with shrubs and trees, 
 -which curved their waving boughs, and played 
 with the passing ripple. Art, guided by the 
 pm'est taste, had added to its native beauty, 
 and given to the rock the gathered treasures of 
 its kind. 
 
 This was the spot loved above all others 
 by the late Lady Glenlonely : here it was that 
 she and her adoring husband passed hours of 
 secluded happiness, — hours enjoyed, for they
 
 GLENLONELY. 99 
 
 were varied by a thousand pursuits. Together 
 they had designed the simple temple devoted 
 to their love ; together they had watched its 
 creation, and directed the woodwork of mosaic : 
 the profanation of the mason's lime w^as for- 
 bidden; the neighbouring woods furnished 
 the materials, and each remained in the garb 
 of nature. Fir trees, clothed in their rugged 
 coat, formed the columns to support the roof: 
 the circle in which they stood was broken 
 in completing the whole, and the space be- 
 tween each w^as filled by mosaic of the varied 
 bark, — fantastic, wild, and rude, yet shaded 
 with skill, and evincing order amidst the sallies 
 of invention. Branches, curved in their growth, 
 gave the festoon which crowned the sides; and 
 the apple of the pine-tree, hanging from a cord 
 of platted bark, completed the upholstery of 
 the sylvan walls. In the same manner the roof 
 was coved and groined, till it found one com- 
 mon centre. From this was suspended a 
 Roman lamp, less for use than the beauty of 
 its form, and the deep and solemn thoughts it 
 awakened in a spot so suited to meditation. 
 F 2
 
 100 GLENLONELY. 
 
 We must leave the reader to complete the 
 interior. Let him picture, but preserve, the 
 style throughout in the chairs and tables — the 
 desk of oak — the ottomans of moss — the 
 dim recess — the painted glass — the clustered 
 books — the vase of flowers — the eagle's 
 feather — the countless nothings in keeping 
 with the scene, which give the air of life, and 
 mark the spirit of the genius which presides. 
 
 Eager and animated, Lord Glenlonely ar- 
 rived at the water's edge, and, looking to a 
 sheltering cavern on his left, he perceived the 
 boat which had so often borne himself and his 
 gentle Mary to their island home. 
 
 He motioned to his attendants, and in a few 
 minutes the bark was ready, and Lord Glen- 
 lonely seated at the stern. 
 
 How soothing it is to glide on the mirror of 
 the sleeping waves ! The breath of spring, 
 the voice of nature, gladdened the living air ; 
 the very trout leapt from its denser element to 
 catch the passing sweets. 
 
 Lord Glenlonely, resting his head upon his 
 arm, looked on the sky reflected in the lake.
 
 GLENLONELY. 101 
 
 Not a cloud appeared ; nought, save here 
 and there some specks of fleeting scud, which 
 gamboled like a dolphin in the air. He almost 
 deemed that he was sailing in the realms 
 above, the beautiful blue of heaven. His 
 mind was calmed, his kindly heart warmed 
 with the influence of universal joy, and for a 
 moment he was happy; the next, he dared 
 not trust the happiness he felt. Returning 
 reason glanced at the truth, and he said within 
 himself, " She is not here with whom all hap- 
 piness was shared." 
 
 Like one prepared to know the worst, he 
 leapt from the boat, and hastened to the shrine 
 of hallowed love. Since last they lingered 
 there, no step had entered. He raised the 
 latch, and looked upon the trace of life as vivid 
 as it were but yesterday. The harp, its key, 
 the seat beside, the music open at the 
 song he loved, the sketch not yet complete, 
 the pencils near, and colours bright, un faded, 
 on the pallet ; the book still open at the page 
 where last they read. These told of life; but 
 near to these were tales of darker hue. The 
 F 3
 
 102 GLENLONELY. 
 
 flowers withered in the vase — the cunning of 
 the spider's web woven on the artist's cup — 
 fruit, she had wished to sketch as glowing with 
 the tints of autumn, now faded, shrunk, and 
 passing to corruption. Reason awoke, reality 
 flashed upon the brain, and in an instant 
 gave the records of the past. The closing 
 scene — the chamber of the dead — the mourn- 
 ing hearse — the funeral — the grave, — all 
 rose upon his sight. He knew that his Mary 
 was in heaven ! 
 
 He gasped for breath, and staggered to a 
 seat. He clasped his hands upon his brow, 
 as if to shun the vision he had seen : it would 
 not pass ; but the floodgates of the heart 
 were opened, and bursting tears relieved the 
 mourner's agony. 
 
 From that hour Lord Glenlonely was an 
 altered man. His life was no longer one 
 continued dream. He had regained the power 
 of separating fiction from truth; the fetters 
 of insanity were broken, and the mind was 
 restored. 
 
 In the building we have partly described
 
 GLENLONELY. 103 
 
 there was a Gothic arch, which opened to a 
 room in miniature, a fairy hall, with marble 
 floor, strewed with the fadeless flowers of 
 Tuscan art; the sides, carved and panelled 
 with an artist's skill, were filled with sketches 
 by a master's hand. Amidst these, recesses, 
 formed of mimic depth, held models of the 
 Grecian art, — the vase — the cup — the urn, 
 — true to that grace and elegance of outline 
 which charm the heart and pour tranquillity 
 within. In nooks and corners brackets grew, 
 and bore some sculptured gems. In all there 
 reigned the harmony of size ; the very table, 
 the wreathed mosaic on its spotless marble, 
 bore this spell : one atom added or withdrawn, 
 one flower or leaf deranged, would have in- 
 jured the whole design, and stolen from a beauty 
 of proportion felt by all, but noticed by few. 
 
 The light, falling from above, gave a more 
 sacred tone to this little sanctuary. To the 
 Hebrew it had been the Holy of Holies, the 
 refuge for his ark ; the Papist would have 
 added some saintly relics, and named it his 
 oratory; the Roman, his luxurious bath; the 
 F 4
 
 104 GLENLONELY. 
 
 sage, some human skull. Lord Glenlonely 
 steered a course between them all : it was 
 sacred in his eyes, for it held his relics, the 
 treasured gifts of his Mary's love ; it was holy, 
 for the volumes there were such alone as told 
 how man was saved and born for immortality. 
 He needed not the ghastly skull, for the touching 
 but simple figure of the cross, formed in the 
 wall which faced the entrance, and closed with 
 tints of coloured glass, shed a holier light than 
 the sage's lamp. It told of death, but also 
 taught the lesson of salvation. 
 
 The tears were still upon Lord Glenlonely's 
 cheeks when the rays of the sinking sun fell 
 upon this window — if such it might be called ; 
 the folding doors were open, and its image 
 was transferred to the adjoining room. Glen- 
 lonely raised his eyes, and saw his Mary's sketch 
 glowing with the glories of the setting sun, the 
 very tints she had endeavoured to portray. 
 On the wall beyond was the figure of the cross : 
 the words of the dying sounded in his ear; 
 he recalled the last request of her who was no 
 more ; her prayer of resignation in the midst
 
 GLENLONELY. 105 
 
 of suffering — the faith of meeting in a happier 
 world. Again he looked upon the cross, his 
 tears ceased, and he returned to his home, sad 
 but resigned. 
 
 It was absolutely necessary to give this little 
 excursion to the lake, or there would have been 
 some points beyond the reader's comprehension. 
 Though we may not for the present reveal more 
 than was known to the world, we must state the 
 facts upon which its tales of wonderment were 
 grounded. 
 
 We have already noticed the apparent mys- 
 tery which hung over the birth of Emily St. 
 Clair. In addition to this, there was a younger 
 brother of Lord Glenlonely who inherited the 
 maiden accumulations of some dear old aunts ; 
 unluckily for himself he lived but a short time 
 to enjoy their munificence. At his death he 
 divided the whole of his property between his 
 nephew Herbert Lindsay and Emily St. Clair, 
 thus nobly repaying the debt of gratitude due to 
 his virgin aunts, by blessing that venerable race 
 with a mine of endless gossip. There was one 
 other fact delightfully unaccountable : when the 
 F 5
 
 106 GLENLONELY. 
 
 intended union was broken off, Emily St. Clair 
 continued to reside with the widowed lord, 
 and the son bade adieu to his father's home. 
 
 On his return from the lake, Lord Glenlonely 
 was met, as usual, by the smiles of the beautiful 
 Emily. In the days of his greatest abstraction, 
 his " Emmy " was always welcome : the child's 
 affections had never been weaned, for he petted 
 her mechanically ; and if at times she might 
 not tempt him to look upon her innocent pur- 
 suits, she would cast aside her toys, and, rasing 
 to the ground the card-built pagoda, would sit 
 contented on his knee, and watch his melancholy 
 look, as if she strove to read the musings of his 
 wandering mind. To-day he paid her smiles 
 with smiles. He clasped her to his bosom. 
 Again the source of tears was touched; he wept 
 to find that he was still beloved. 
 
 It may seem unnatural, nevertheless it is 
 true to the mazes of the human heart, when we 
 relate that Lord Glenlonely turned from the 
 si^ht of his infant son ; in him he beheld the 
 slayer of his wife. 
 
 In woman there is the brute instinct of the
 
 OLENLONELY. 107 
 
 mother, that wonderful power which nerves the 
 weak, gives courage to the timid, and makes 
 the poor bird a glad martyr for its little ones. 
 Man has none of this. The father might die 
 to defend his child as he would have done to 
 protect his wife ; but he knows not that instinct 
 of courage and devotion born with the birth of 
 the mother's child, flowing from the heart like 
 the stream of life which is given from her 
 bosom. This is a holy love, for it is com- 
 manded from on high: but we, in the frailty of 
 our nature, have no power to command our 
 affections; they are born in caprice, hope, 
 sympathy, or chance; they may endure, but 
 are never certain ; their reign may be strong 
 or wild as a tyrant's power; like that they may 
 perish at a blow. 
 
 Still, howsoever they may mock at reason, 
 impossible though it be to force them into 
 being, there are the means of supplying their 
 place ; if we cannot light the torch within our 
 heart, we can see by the light of reason the 
 path which the heart should have chosen, and 
 that we can pursue. 
 
 F 6
 
 108 GLENLONELY. 
 
 O woman, in thy wretchedness, spurned 
 by the one round whom the incense of thy 
 whole affections burned, how have we seen 
 thee tend in devotion the being who had 
 quenched the flame and forfeited thy love for 
 ever ! 
 
 But we were speaking of man. To return, 
 then, to Lord Glenlonely : — in kindness and 
 * devotion he was more than a father to his infant 
 boy ; he watched with a mother's eye, and saw 
 each want supplied ; he reproached himself 
 for the anguish it cost when he looked upon his 
 smiles : the chamber of death was imaged with 
 his birth ; he struggled, but in vain ; the jewel 
 was beyond the cost ; he bitterly atoned for 
 having loved too well the fairest of the daughters 
 of earth. 
 
 On the little Emily the same guardian care 
 was bestowed, but given with the warmth of 
 love ; she was a relic from his Mary's hand, the 
 type of happiness they once enjoyed, and to 
 which his memory clung. 
 
 Where we love and seek to be beloved there 
 is no mistaking the words and actions which
 
 GLENLONELY. 109 
 
 spring from affection ; the same, the very same, 
 flowing from a cooler source, are but a chilling 
 bounty. The young heart of Herbert Lindsay 
 was early sensible of his father's devoted kind- 
 ness, and yearned towards him with the purity 
 and warmth of childhood's feeling. In all his 
 little cares and wants — his seeking after know- 
 ledore — in health or sickness — there was the 
 
 o 
 
 wish to turn towards his father : but the fire 
 which should have welcomed, the beacon of 
 love which should have shown the harbour 
 of a father's heart — these were not always 
 kindled. 
 
 Children are keen observers, and the more 
 able to be so, because with them man does not 
 condescend to use the mask he wears with 
 fellow-man. At times the little Herbert per- 
 ceived that the eyes he sought were turned 
 away, or burned without that bright and holy 
 flame which answers to the signal of distress. 
 If not repulsed, he was not hailed ; the rising 
 question died in silence, the throbbings of a 
 fevered brow^ were borne untold. He could 
 not sue, and he was not asked to tell his cares
 
 110 GLENLONELY. 
 
 and wants ; reserve and distance were the 
 consequences. 
 
 The peculiarities of Lord Glenlonely's retire- 
 ment were too marked to escape his son's atten- 
 tion ; he had naturally sought for the cause, and 
 the story of his father's wreck was shortly told. 
 When this was known, Herbert Lindsay never 
 varied in his line of conduct. If there were 
 moments when his presence could please, he 
 was at his father's side ; if, on the contrary, 
 he saw the gathering cloud, he framed some 
 cause of absence, or, effecting some wish ex- 
 pressed by Lord Glenlonely, he would watch 
 for the opportunity of saying, " Father, j-our 
 wishes are fulfilled." 
 
 As Lord Glenlonely advanced in years, the 
 mind partook of the body's decay ; the in- 
 sanity — if such we must term it — increased ; 
 the intervals were fewer in which he could 
 enjoy the society of the best of sons ; and when 
 Herbert Lindsay relinquished the hand of 
 Emily St. Clair, he decided upon quitting his 
 father's roof, as a step most conducive to the 
 remaining happiness of those most dear
 
 GLENLONELY. 1 1 J 
 
 Towards Emily St. Clair the feelings of Lord 
 Glenlonely had been those of unvaried affec- 
 tion, — she was to him the gentle planet of equal 
 light and warmth — his cherub once, and now 
 his ministering angel. In one, a bankrupt in 
 earthly hope, with an intellect which trembled 
 still from the shock it had sustained, may we 
 not forgive the selfish love which led him to 
 retain the stay of declining years ? Can we 
 wonder that his Lordship was averse to the 
 marriage between his son and Emily St. Clair ? 
 At first he would not listen to the subject ; 
 without assigning one specific reason, he was 
 decidedly opposed. For the first time in his 
 lift he addressed his son in words of bitter re- 
 proach: the first time that he alluded to the loss 
 of his wife he coupled the birth of his son with 
 his wreck of happiness ; " and now," he added, 
 " while bowed with sorrow I feebly approach 
 the grave of my sainted Mary, you would 
 snatch from my hands the only remaining 
 prop." 
 
 Herbert Lindsay proved how much he had 
 been wroncred. He kissed his father's hand, im-
 
 112 GLENLOKELY. 
 
 plored his blessing and forgiveness, and re- 
 newed his hopes no more. 
 
 Left to himself, Lord Glenlonely felt the 
 mjustice of his words. The hand which his 
 son had kissed was resting on the velvet of his 
 chair ; his eyes turned with his thoughts, 
 and he traced the channel of a fallen tear; 
 the same hand was raised to his fevered brow, 
 and the tears of the father flowed in the chan- 
 nel marked by the son : the impression of 
 that hour was not effaced by following days. 
 Glenlonely watched his Emily, the workings 
 of her mind. Abstracted in his thoughts, and 
 blessed with her devotedness, the idea of her 
 loving his son had never occurred : a few 
 weeks convinced him of his error. 
 
 Emily St. Clair felt, if it were possible, more 
 than a daughter's love for Lord Glenlonely. 
 A child has just claims to the affection of its 
 parent ; but she had none on him, who had 
 been to her more than a father. His love w^as 
 the free-will offering to the homeless orphan : 
 and her gratitude sprang from feelings strongei' 
 than the sense of duty, warmer than those
 
 GLENLONELY. 113 
 
 of a daughter, who is bound to repay that 
 which she has a right to demand. When 
 Glenlonely objected to her marriage with his 
 son, she bowed to his decision. She perceived 
 the pain and agitation which the subject oc- 
 casioned, and at once was prepared to sacrifice 
 her hopes for the peace of her guardian's 
 mind. 
 
 But the tide of woman's love — deep, 
 passionate, and pure — flows hke the clear 
 and ceaseless river. It may be covered by 
 the veil of a cold and calm exterior, but the 
 tell-tale cheek speaks like ice upon the stream 
 beneath. All seems frozen upon the surface, 
 the roses wither, and the snow-drop springs ; 
 the liquid brightness of the eye is glazed; 
 we look upon the winter of despair, yet know 
 that the pulse of love is throbbing in the 
 shrouded heart. 
 
 Lord Glenlonely's attention once aroused 
 could not be deceived. Love had been to him 
 a master-passion, the one absorbing all others, 
 and under every guise he recognised the 
 tyrant's step. Once convinced, he mastered
 
 114 GLENLONELY. 
 
 every selfish thought, and rewarded his 
 Emmy's devotion by consenting to her union 
 with his son. 
 
 Such were the simple facts known to the 
 busy world, and which, we trust, are sufficient 
 to explain why Emily St. Clair was still under 
 the roof of Lord Glenlonely, and why his son 
 was not. For the reasons which led to their 
 voluntary resignation of proflFered happiness 
 the reader must wait with becoming patience.
 
 GLENLONELY. 1 15 
 
 CHAP. V. 
 
 A winter's day-dream in ITALY. 
 
 We '11 lead the public by the nose, 
 And write our poetry in prose. 
 
 Hush de Brass. 
 
 " Hell is paved with good intentions," are the 
 words of a powerful writer ; nevertheless, they 
 are false. Evil is not founded on good. Quo- 
 tations, once received, pass current with suc- 
 ceeding ages : they spare the trouble of think- 
 ing, and are welcomed from lip to lip. 
 
 The words we have quoted occurred to 
 memory as we felt in a particularly delightfully 
 lazy mood. Seated in a venerable elbowed 
 chair, cosing over the treasured ashes of our 
 dogs — cheered by the crackling wood, the 
 blazing apples of the pine-tree — with pen in 
 hand, and paper on our knee — we intended to
 
 lit) GLENLONELY. 
 
 fulfil our promise, and describe the meeting of 
 the friends. 
 
 But the flowers of our silken damask, 
 '' couleur de rose^^ while they won us to our 
 seat, shed the sweet influence of idleness, — we 
 were much too happy to think for ourselves; 
 and, having quoted the words of another, sank 
 in the dreamy happiness of morning sleep. 
 Do not imagine that our eyes were closed: it 
 was not the sleep of the weary which weighs 
 the eyelids down ; they looked upon a thousand 
 beauties, and wandered, like a noiseless ray, 
 from charm to charm. 
 
 The sun was bright : we feh its smile, but 
 still we dreamt. Without one effort, thoughts 
 — fancies — visions, wild and everchanging — 
 came uncalled, and passed like fleece upon the 
 sky — the golden fleece — the bright blue sky 
 of Italy — the sunny rays, which warmed to 
 life though winter reigned — the lullaby of 
 breaking waves — the garden blooming to the 
 very beach — the hedge of aloes — the crystal 
 sea, tinged with the colours of the dying 
 dolphin — the shepherd v/ith his flock ■ — the
 
 GLENLONELY. 117 
 
 breath of hay upon its shore * — the stately 
 palm with waving plumes — the glowing orange 
 — the silvered olive — the myrtle and carna- 
 tion — the roses climbing like the wanton 
 vine, and blushing by the cypress near. Ah ! 
 who could look on these, nor be a poet in his 
 dreams ? 
 
 To say the truth, we, of the plural number, 
 had almost committed that folly, and were only 
 saved by seeing cabbages and green peas 
 mingled w^ith the magic of Italia's garden ! 
 The peas might have passed muster with the 
 classic dunghill of poor Cowper ; but a cab- 
 bage ! — a compact sphere of crumpled cab- 
 bage ! — this brought us to our senses. We 
 woke with horror ! We felt the passing chill 
 of England's December; and the longings of 
 our maiden muse were lost in the fogs of boiled 
 beef and an eating-house. 
 
 Yes; it was December, — that black and cheer- 
 
 * The peasants transport their late crops of grass to 
 the sea-shore, and make hay upon the shingles : the seed 
 which escapes takes root in the sand, and produces grass 
 enough to tempt the shepherd and his flock.
 
 118 GLENLONELY. 
 
 less month, when we were subjected to the un- 
 profitable temptation of writing poetry. Blessed 
 be the name of cabbage, which brought us to 
 the level of the age ! — to the earth, earthy ! 
 It saved us from a precipice as we wandered in 
 our sleep; but, the danger past, we turned to 
 dream again. We chased the gnat which had 
 crept within the net-work of our fancy, and 
 again w^ere blest in the mistiness of floating 
 thoughts. 
 
 Though the year was closing, and the fire a 
 luxury, our windows were opened to the garden 
 terrace. Though strongly contrasted, how 
 sweetly did all things harmonise ! — the fresh- 
 ness of winter wdth the glow of summer — the 
 geranium and the jessamine blooming on the 
 trellis of the leafless vine — the floor of brick 
 and the rug of Persia — the blazing hearth fed 
 by a breath like that of spring — the lengthened 
 ray sunning the colours of our checkered carpet ; 
 such were the charms which mingled with 
 the parting year, and raised the image of a 
 Christian's death — his hopes which brightly 
 cheer the darkness of the closing grave.
 
 GLENLONELY. 119 
 
 Still, as we dreamt, the floating visions passed, 
 and led us with their changing hues ; we looked 
 upon our easel, and the scattered sketches in- 
 tended to be finished — on dusty models finished 
 and intended to be patent — on riches gathered 
 by the fi'iends who stole the thoughts intended 
 for ourselves — on drawings intended for our 
 idle lathe — on tools intended for the works un- 
 finished still ; there stood the w^ild ambition of 
 our young mechanic mind, motion intended to 
 be perpetual; yes, there it stood, the cable 
 of a spider's web had checked the balance ex- 
 quisitely fine, and brought our hopes to anchor. 
 Our vision fixed upon our guns, our pistols, 
 rods, and tackle. Again we traced the scenes 
 of long-forgotten years — the fields of corn — 
 the autumn wood — the purple moor — the 
 treacherous bog — the silent river, — and watched 
 the salmon leaping at the roaring falls. We 
 saw them all ; we saw the first poor victim of 
 unerring sight — the dying pheasant. Again 
 we rushed to seize the prize, again we paused 
 and looked upon the picture, vivid as it then 
 appeared ; there lay the bird — helpless —
 
 120 GLENLONELY. 
 
 maimed — but living still; the crimson blood 
 had dyed the glories of its plumage ; its heav- 
 ing bosom gasped for breath ; its large, black, 
 brilliant eye was fixed on ours ; we dared not 
 touch it — no — until that eye had closed, and 
 one convulsive flutter told the agony of death 
 was passed, we dared not move; we trembled 
 like a coward, and — intended — never — never 
 to fire another shot. We stood by the sparkling 
 ripple, and looked upon the worm writhing on 
 the hook; we thought of the vow we made, 
 and one intention kept. We grasped a pistol in 
 our hand — there w^as a demon in our heart — 
 we raised the muzzle — away ! away ! this is 
 the nightmare of our thoughts — let holier visions 
 come. We caught the spirit of our good inten- 
 tions — a host resolved — a few fulfilled ; we 
 thought of the chapter we had intended to write ; 
 we thought with the thoughts of another, and 
 awoke with these words on our tongue, " Hell 
 is paved with good intentions." 
 
 The sun, in its ceaseless course, had scaled 
 the heavens, and darted its rays upon us and 
 our damask roses ; there was no witlistanding
 
 GLENLONELY. 121 
 
 this — we might lay the spirit of a cabbage — 
 but the orb of hght and life was beyond our 
 power — there needed a voice almighty and 
 eternal to bid the sun to sink and rest its glories 
 on the bosom of the sea. 
 
 We awoke ; and, thinking on the words we 
 had quoted, we pronounced them false — no 
 
 — no — our good intentions are the stars in 
 heaven — they are the good seed we sow in 
 purer worlds than this. The tempter may lure 
 our thoughts to earth — \\'e may cease to watch 
 and water — the seed may bring forth nothing, 
 but it was sown where all is incorruptible, and 
 perish it cannot ! — There it is — the sower may 
 return when he will — he may. water it with the 
 tears of repentance, and the seed shall shoot and 
 multiply a hundred fold. 
 
 And when the poor frail husbandman is dead 
 
 — when he stands before his Judge — this good 
 seed, sown above, shall be weighed against the 
 tares and weeds of this world: — lioht though it 
 be, compared to the fruits of good works, it shall 
 count in the scale — evil cannot spring from 
 good ; and the merit of having sown the good 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 r22 GLENLONELY. 
 
 seed remains for ever : ■ — no — no — hell is 
 paved with dark corruption, which feeds the 
 nightshade of our poisoned thoughts. 
 
 And what is this to our purpose ? — Much. 
 Having touched upon two extremes, we are 
 likely to return to a middle course. We have 
 studded with stars the vault of heaven, and 
 planted with deadly nightshade the pavement 
 of hell. Thus, having travelled like the beam 
 of a balance to the lowest and highest possible, 
 like that, we now hope to regain a horizontal 
 position — and rest. ^" 
 
 * I was on the point of sending this work to Eng- 
 land, when a friend reminded rne that Capt. Marryat 
 had begun a chapter with the quotation, " Hell is paved 
 with good intentions," and pursued the idea for a few 
 lines. He who has gained so many laurels by the sword 
 and pen might have spared one leaf^ had the present writer 
 done more than accidentally alighted upon the same 
 theme.
 
 GLENLOXELY. 123 
 
 CHAP. VI. 
 
 THE EXILE. 
 
 My age is as a lusty winter. 
 
 Frosty, but kindly : let me go with you, 
 I '11 do the service of a younger man 
 In all your business and necessities. 
 
 Shakspeare. 
 
 The imagination, like the balance, needs but 
 little impulse to renew its wanderings ; but 
 here we must drop the simile, for the mind 
 would never be content to move for ever upon 
 a given centre, — it must progress. 
 
 Beyond all doubt there is a magic and a mys- 
 tery in the number three. — From the time when 
 Adam and Eve looked upon their first-born, 
 and counted three in the world, to the present 
 day, when little ones are countless, the fact has 
 been acknowledged : each succeeding age has 
 G -2
 
 124 GLENLOXELY. 
 
 tried to read the hidden charm, but in vain. 
 Still, however, the fact is undeni^d; its in- 
 fluence might be traced in every page of his- 
 tory, and instances without end, from the 
 three Graces to the Three Jolly Butchers, 
 w^ho swing upon the publican's sign — the 
 sinner looks up, and finds resistance vain. — 
 Think of the Roman's triumvir, how well it 
 worked ! — ■ think of England's three united 
 kingdoms, how they pull together, in spite 
 of O'Connell ! — think of an Esquimaux doc- 
 tor, who cures toothache and swelling by three 
 taps on the cheek and three puffs in tlie 
 face ; — think, most learned reader, of all your 
 third attempts, and you will comprehend why 
 we now feel certain of introducing Colonel 
 Murray to the friend of his early days. 
 
 Twice we have started with this intention, 
 and been turned from our path, but now the 
 ground is our own, — there is magic in our step. 
 
 "When Colonel Murray determined to visit 
 Italy, he was influenced by the hope of seeing 
 Herbert Lindsay. What a volume would their 
 meeting open ! — what records of the years
 
 GLENLO^'EL\^ 125 
 
 since last they met ! — and, ah I what happiness 
 to reperuse the spotless pages of their child- 
 hood's hour ! 
 
 In the first moment of desponding grief, 
 Lindsay shrunk from society, and shrouded 
 his very habitation from a knowledge of the 
 world. Murray, his all-confided friend, was 
 the only one whose presence he could have 
 borne, and he was far away. Chained to the 
 duties of his stern profession, Murray was 
 treading that path of gbry, to retire from 
 which is infamy. Forward I forward ! was 
 then his imperious watchword : — he might 
 trample in his course upon the dead and dy- 
 ino^, — but he mif^ht not turn back to heal the 
 wounds of a friend, or listen to his mother, 
 had she called from the bed of death. 
 
 Such, indeed, was the veiled seclusion of 
 Herbert Lindsay : it was not till after the 
 Colonel's return to Scotland that he learned 
 its bearings. During the war, he had from 
 time to time exchanged letters with his friend ; 
 but the correspondence passed through the 
 medium of Lord Glenlonelj^s steward, — a 
 G 3
 
 126 GLENLONELY. 
 
 man who had known and loved both from their 
 infancy. The hurried moments snatched from 
 the bustle of a soldier's life, the risk and 
 uncertainty of the post and address, gave no 
 opportunity of long or confidential commu- 
 nication. 
 
 The Colonel had already meditated a visit 
 to his friend, when the Russian campaign 
 occurred, and offered the means of adding to 
 his knowledge in the art to which his life was 
 devoted. But this opportunity, however valu- 
 able, he would have gladly sacrificed, had he 
 obtained Lindsay's consent to their meeting. 
 The poor recluse dared not then accept the 
 proposal : he had been ill in body as well as 
 mind, and felt unequal to sustain the flow of 
 bright and bitter recollections. Great as the 
 happiness would be in grasping the hand of 
 his dearest friend, the fevered pulse would 
 quicken with the touch; — wounds tranquillised 
 by solitude would be burst by the throbbing 
 vein, and bleed anew : he was then too feeble 
 for the trial, but hoped, on the Colonel's re- 
 turn, to be able to receive him.
 
 GLEXLOXELY. 127 
 
 The old steward of Lord Glenlonely accom- 
 panied Herbert Lindsay when he bade adieu 
 to England. This faithM servant evinced 
 that beautiful simplicity of attachment which 
 is sometimes seen in his rank of life. His 
 father, and the forefathers of his father, had 
 held the same rank for ages past : branches of 
 the same family planted on the estate had lived 
 in their cottao^es as in freeholds of their own : 
 they had become a part of the Glenlonely pro- 
 perty, — as much so as the venerable timber 
 around the house : to have removed either 
 would have seemed the act of a parricide ; they 
 were continued, and respected as the living 
 heir-looms of inheritance. John Moggeridge — 
 such was the name of the present steward — was 
 senior to his honoured lord. Lord Glenlonely, 
 previously to his marriage, had travelled much, 
 and availed himself of opportunities of visiting 
 the Continent, which, in those days, were pos- 
 sessed by few. Moggeridge was his follower; 
 ever ready to minister to his wants, or sacri- 
 fice his life in defence of his master. He was 
 then in the pride of manhood, a something 
 G 4
 
 1*28 GLENLONELY. 
 
 more than six feet three in height, with Hmbs 
 fully, yet finely proportioned, and a perfect 
 study for the sculptor ; with a countenance 
 open and sunny as the mid-day of summer; 
 locks crisped with a thousand careless curls, 
 and laughing eyes of lightest blue ; he looked 
 the image of that good nature, which, luckily 
 for the weak, is apt to accompany the con- 
 sciousness of power. Such a being, however, 
 was not to be trifled with, any more than the 
 lion, with a lap-dog in his den : many a time 
 he proved a host within himself, when Lord 
 Glenlonely, urged by classic lore or spirit of 
 romance, explored the treasures of Italian ruins. 
 Things have changed since then, in Italy as 
 well as England ; and the scholar may now 
 travel as safely to Paestum as the citizen to 
 Shooter's Hill. In the days of John Mogger- 
 idge, banditti and highwaymen were more 
 frequent than milestones. What deeds of 
 prowess and adventure could we not relate ! 
 but we will resist the tempter for once, and be 
 as faithful to our Colonel's steps as bold Mog- 
 sceridffe was to those of his lord.
 
 GLEN LONELY. 1*29 
 
 How difficult it is to fix the imagination ! 
 Reader, did you ever see a grindstone urged 
 by the powers of steam ? We mean a sohd, 
 compact, and circular mass of stone whirling on 
 its centre. Did you ever see the centrifugal 
 motion shiver the stone to a thousand bits, — 
 piercing the roof like shot from the cannon, — 
 slaying the mechanic on the spot, — and scat- 
 tering death and destruction around ? Had 
 you seen this, as we have, and as we hope you 
 have not, you would comprehend why imagin- 
 ation is like the grindstone referred to. There 
 is a perpetual tendency to fly off: it requires 
 clamps and contrivances to keep it to its work. 
 We will not insult the reader by asking if he 
 comprehends ? He must see the pith of our 
 illustration, and pity our difficulties ; he 
 must, for he lives in the land of the rushlights 
 of knowledge. Sweet stars of earth, whicli 
 light us by day like the fire-flies by night, 
 and all for a penny ! oh, how we hail their 
 aid ! Life is worth living for when we may 
 write a long word without explanation, — when 
 we may say '- centrifugal," without stopping to 
 G 5
 
 130 GLENLONELY. 
 
 add, i. e. "a predisposition to fly from the 
 point" — and when we may turn the reader to 
 ponder in wisdom without an apology. 
 
 To return to John Moggeridge. He, poor 
 fellow, had seen the fire-flies of night, and 
 thanked, with simple fervour, their wonderful 
 Creator. His books were mostly the works of 
 nature. The school in which he studied was 
 no bad one for the times wherein he lived. 
 
 After the birth of Herbert Lindsay, the 
 duties of his stewardship appeared to centre 
 in watching over the orphan heir. The death 
 of Lady Glenlonely rendered it necessary to 
 seek in another the fountain of infant life, and 
 Moggeridge, indirectly, was the means of sup- 
 plying this want. If the milk of human kind- 
 ness, in which he abounded, was not quite the 
 substitute requu'ed, a most perfect one was 
 found in his younger daughter. This person 
 had had the double misfortune of losing her 
 husband and child. Woman must have a 
 something to love; and woman, if not man, 
 can easily imagine the widow's consolation as 
 she pressed the little Herbert to her bosom.
 
 GLENLONELY. 131 
 
 The love of a foster-mother is proverbial in 
 Scotland, — and in this case there was every 
 combining cause to make it stronger than 
 usual ; while Moggeridge, who had received 
 his widowed daughter to his roof, felt for 
 Herbert as if he were his "ain bairn," born 
 to him in the days of good old age. 
 
 At times he would sit for hours by the 
 cradle, and watch the slumbers of the boy. 
 If some baby-horror broke the stillness of 
 repose, he would let the infant's hand attempt 
 to grasp his finger for support, and then his 
 giant limbs would rest as if a spell had bound 
 them. At other times he would carry the 
 infant to breathe the mountain air, or slumber 
 in his arms. We have seen him there watching 
 the smile of innocence, till his weather-beaten 
 features beamed with the spirit of its ray. 
 
 The stroke of affliction which, in the first 
 instance, stunned the faculties of Lord Glen- 
 lonely's mind, left his son as much to the care 
 of others as if he had been entirely an orphan. 
 And, indeed, when his Lordship recovered, 
 such was the painful excitement occasioned by 
 o 6
 
 132 GLENLONELY. 
 
 seeing the link of departed bliss, that it was 
 found necessary to keep Herbert with his foster- 
 mother, excepting when Lord Glenlonely ex- 
 pressed a wish to the contrary. 
 
 As Herbert increased in years, Moggeridge 
 became even a better companion than he was a 
 nurse. He accompanied him in all his ram- 
 bles, — told the legend of every cave and ruin, 
 — pointed out the eagle's eyrie, or haunts of 
 the biggest trout; and when, with gun in 
 hand, they tracked the deer, the slender form 
 of Herbert had little trouble in threading the 
 wildest cover. If their path were opposed, 
 Moggeridge would lean with the weight of 
 his Herculean form, and burst through the 
 crackling boughs like a mammoth of the woods. 
 What happy days were those for this faithful 
 follower, or rather, we should say, this mighty 
 leader ! How he hailed the returning holi- 
 days, and envied every hour devoted to Latin 
 and Greek ! 
 
 It is a part of such attachment to forget that 
 the boy may become a man. There is a some- 
 thing in the changing seasons — the returning
 
 GLENLONELY. 133 
 
 night and day — which marks the revolving 
 year; and the first short day of twelve suc- 
 ceedinof months seems like tlie milestone of our 
 earthly pilgrimage. Time, in its divisions, is 
 marked; but sorrow, sickness, happiness, or 
 agony, constitute the length of life. We may 
 live twenty years in one, or glide from one to 
 twenty, and the whole shall seem as one. 
 Within one given mile we may look on nature's 
 majesty, her wonderful beauty, and the glad 
 creation. We may see the same warring with 
 the awful elements, — the mountains rearing 
 their craggy pinnacles as if they dared the 
 thunderbolt ; — we may watch the waters 
 gathered by the wind, — may see them walk 
 the air, and track the ruin of the bursting 
 column. The image of either will be fixed for 
 ever. Within a little we have looked upon a 
 world of loveliness — a world of sublimity and 
 horror. And then again, we may journey mile 
 after mile, many in number, but nothing in 
 recorded reality. It is thus with human life. 
 Time is noted in our details : moments of suf- 
 fering or bliss may be as a life to man ; but
 
 134 GLENLONELY. 
 
 time, as a whole, is invisible. It is borne 
 on wings which mock the ear and the eye. 
 Whence it cometh and whither it goeth none 
 may say. It passeth from eternity to eternity, 
 ■ — those gulfs of mystery and darkness un- 
 fathomable by the mind of mortal ! 
 
 The faithful Moggeridge was too calmly 
 happy to reflect thus deeply about the course 
 of years. The stream of time had probably 
 sounded more intellio;ible to him. He might 
 have comprehended how, flowing from gulf 
 to gulf, it supplied the clouds and mists of 
 his Highlands, — how the earth drank the 
 glad showers which descended, and yielded the 
 plenty of his humble wants. These, indeed, 
 were few. He stood like the oak in the valley 
 of v/aters, — undisturbed by the mighty stream, 
 yet drinking of the blessings which sprang be- 
 side its course ; so tranquil was the tenour of 
 his days, and so greatly did the retirement and 
 sameness of Lord Glenlonely's life add to the 
 stillness of retiring years. 
 
 Moggeridge, to be sure, had one yearly 
 reckoning which he never forgot. No hand
 
 GLENLOXELY. 135 
 
 but his was allowed to prepare the ashen faggot 
 which each returning eve of Christmas was 
 burnt in honour of his lord. 
 
 This custom, still so prevalent in the west 
 of England, had been introduced for ages past 
 into the Glenlonely family. The soil of the 
 superstitious north was most congenial ; and a 
 new belief w^as soon grafted on the original 
 stock, namely, that the neglect of this ceremony 
 would involve the ruin, or, at least, the misery 
 of the Glenlonely race. 
 
 It was with feelings approaching to the sense 
 of some sacred duty that Moggeridge fulfilled 
 the task : — when he took the axe in hand, there 
 was a fixed solemnity of feature which appeared 
 at no other time — the ash destined to form 
 the mystic faggot was cut at midnight, and he 
 wandered forth alone. 
 
 If the moon were bright, he might be seen 
 winning his way amidst the crags, until he stood 
 beside his chosen tree; — there he would pause, 
 and, raising his light blue eyes to Heaven, 
 would invoke a blessing on Glenlonely's lord. 
 
 The prayer of an honest heart is pure, but
 
 IS6 GLENLONELY. 
 
 energetic — it matters little what were the 
 words ; but we doubt if Druid priest, with all 
 the aid of art, ever appeared so awfully majestic 
 as our own John Moggeridge. What had been 
 the golden sickle — the sacred bough — the 
 circling stones which mocked the size of man — 
 compared to the simple but gigantic form of 
 Moggeridge, wrapped in his tartan cloak, his 
 hands folded on the glittering axe, backed 
 by the sky of heaven, and magnified in the 
 doubtful light of the midnight hour ? 
 
 The same solemnity attended the completion 
 of his work: — when trimming the faggots to 
 their length, his children and his children's 
 children would gather round and watch with 
 breathless silence ; and while he bound the 
 whole with bands answering in number to 
 Glenlonely's years, one might have deemed it 
 some magician weaving the web of life, or 
 numbering the days of some devoted victim. 
 
 Even here the spell, like our promise, could 
 not be perfected without the magic number 
 three, — the circling bands w^ere wound in three 
 divisions, at either end, and in the centre.
 
 GLEXLONELY. 137 
 
 Happy the year when Lord Glenlonely's age 
 allowed of an equal division I When this might 
 not be, the fillets of imperfect augury were 
 carefully placed in the centre, as if to guard 
 them by the triple charm : this would not 
 always avail — Lady Glenlonely, the young and 
 beautiful, died in his Lordship's twenty-ninth 
 year ! 
 
 When this tribute had been prepared for the 
 head of the family, it was carried with due 
 solemnity to the ancient hall, and suspended 
 till evening from antlers, of size and form 
 long since extinct, which adorned the enor- 
 mous fire-place. 
 
 After this, Moggeridge would think of 
 Glenlonely's heir — '• his ain dear bairn :" — 
 in fulfilling this part of his sacred office, there 
 was less of solemn and troubled anxiety : that 
 one so young and happy could ever grow old 
 and wretched entered not into his present cal- 
 culations. T\\e custom, begun with the first 
 year, was scrupulously continued, but without a 
 shadow of dark foreboding. When the little 
 Herbert had attained to the mighty age of
 
 138 GLEXLONELY. 
 
 twelve entire months, and Moggeridge held him 
 laughing in his lap, he, too, smiled at his own 
 perplexity in making one into three : — he said 
 in his heart there is a power above which guards 
 the innocent, and he laughed at his fears and 
 doubts ; nevertheless, he chose one band suffi- 
 ciently long to pass tliree times round the 
 tiny faggot. 
 
 The continuance of this ceremony might 
 have hinted to Moggeridge, that twenty added 
 to one, change infancy to manhood. Had he 
 looked, as we do, upon the tw^o numbers at 
 once, he would, probably, have thought of the 
 intermediate space filled by revolving years — 
 but this was not the case : — Herbert, as a babe, 
 had been fostered beneath his roof, and from 
 that hour had never ceased to receive his 
 watchful care; — compared with himself, his 
 slight and delicate form made him ever " his 
 ain gentle bairn," who needed protection. Time 
 stole on, a thousand changes were passing 
 around, but the feelings of the faithful steward 
 were unvaried : he laboured under a beautiful 
 delusion of single-hearted affection, and Herbert
 
 GLENLONELi'. 139 
 
 was Still the boy to liim — the same to-day as 
 twenty years ago. 
 
 It must be confessed that, as Herbert advanced 
 in years, Moggeridge had occasional misgivings 
 as to Glenlonely's heir. To the separations 
 caused by the course of studies he had sub- 
 mitted with tolerable grace : he supposed it was 
 right, though he could not quite comprehend how 
 the dead languages assisted the living, or why 
 one, born to abundance and command, should 
 toil like a bailie's clerk; — '''yet," he would 
 say within himself, " let the boy be learned as 
 becomes his station, but why not study the 
 history of his native Scotland ? If he must turn 
 to the dead, why not read of the great she has 
 given to the w^orld ?" And often, as he wandered 
 over the Glenlonely estate, and made himself 
 master of the wants and sorrows of its scattered 
 tenantry, " is not this," he would ask, " a his- 
 tory my gentle bairn should learn by heart ? 
 The Greeks and Romans are passed — their 
 destiny is filled — but here is a living school, 
 a lesson worthy of Glenloneh^'s heir : — have 
 we not here the mountain pass, the battle field,
 
 140 GLENLONELY. 
 
 — spots made sacred by a hero's death ?" And, 
 warmed by the recollections he conjured up, 
 his bosom expanded with the pride of glory, 
 and he looked down with disdain upon the 
 peaceful professors of Oxford. 
 
 But when Herbert did return, and instead 
 of listening to the legendary lore of John 
 Moggeridge, — when, instead of devotion to 
 the wild sports of his country, he sat for hours 
 by the side of Emily Saint Clair, or guided her 
 fairy feet to some bower amidst the crags, — 
 he then, indeed, v/as sorely troubled — " the 
 bairn must be bewitched ! " — Where was the 
 daring spirit which used to nerve his gentle 
 form, and where the glow of health ? They 
 were stolen by the midnight watch, the magic 
 of the moonlight ray, and he thought more 
 gravely of the ashen faggot — of some ill omen 
 from omission — of causes without end, — but 
 never stumbled on the possibility of " little 
 Emmy" becoming a woman, and Herbert — 
 " the gentle bairn" — a man. 
 
 Had Moggeridge opened his eyes to the pro- 
 bability of such common-place events, he would,
 
 GLENLOXELY. 141 
 
 doubtless, have glanced at the spirit of love 
 instead of darkness ; but looking beyond the 
 simple truth, which grew imperceptibly at home, 
 he only saw the distant clouds of anxiety and 
 fear. His heart was too noble, too open for 
 jealousy to find a lurking place within : could 
 he have believed that Herbert was happy, he 
 would have been content : believing the con- 
 trary, he grieved in secret and despair, like the 
 leech whose child is drooping from a cause be- 
 yond his skill. Thus it was that his simple but 
 fond delusion made him blind to the last — he 
 gathered no wisdom from the means of daily ob- 
 servation ; and when, at length, Herbert sought 
 permission to make Emily St. Clair his wife, 
 the absent and abstracted Glenlonely was not 
 more surprised than John Moggeridge — what 
 could have led " the bairn " to think of a wife 
 was a mystery to him. 
 
 But if the idea of Herbert's marrying were in- 
 comprehensible, the subsequent departure from 
 his Emily and home was doubly so. By degrees 
 he had reconciled his notions to the intended 
 union, and was almost, if not quite, convinced.
 
 142 GLENLOXELY. 
 
 that Herbert found as much happiness by the 
 side of Emily St. Clair as he used to do in his 
 rambles with John Moggeridge. 
 
 Nay, more than this, as, in the course of 
 years, he once more bound the mystic bands 
 around the ashen faggot, and counted twenty, 
 he was startled into a dim perception of the 
 flight of time. In looking back, he called to 
 mind his o\\^i much younger age, when first 
 his troth was plighted to his blooming Grace : 
 " but that," said he, " was another thing ; I had 
 the bearing of a man when others are but boys ; " 
 — and as this exception passed in favour of 
 himself, he folded his arms upon the volume of 
 his chest, and raising his right leg, the foot took 
 its position in advance, and fell upon the earth 
 with a weight and force which made it ring. 
 The act had unconsciously followed the train of 
 his reflections : — the trembling turf — the sudden 
 stamp — recalled his thoughts, and a slight blush 
 warmed his manly features as he felt that he 
 stood in the pride of mortal strength; — his brow, 
 which had been raised on high, bowed in grati- 
 tude to the Giver of all things. Still, however,
 
 GLEXLOXELY. 143 
 
 as the eyes bent to earth, they glanced with ap- 
 probation at the perfect but Herculean symmetry 
 of the haughty limbs. The mind, alas ! is never 
 perfect, though the form may be — frailty mingles 
 with the prayers we make. 
 
 This self-approving glance was but a passing 
 speck upon the mind of Moggeridge; it vanished 
 with the blush of shame for the pride of his 
 heart ; an humbled and a softer tone prevailed : 
 he thought of the vanity of worldly gifts ; of 
 his own fond Grace, torn from his side by un- 
 relenting death — the happy, happy days of 
 their plighted love. 
 
 Touched by the remembrance of the bliss he 
 once possessed, — of the grief he felt when be- 
 reaved of Grace, — he trembled lest the fate of 
 Herbert should be dashed with sorrow. This 
 would have been natural, without the aid of 
 superstition ; but, strengthened by this dark 
 phantom of the brain, his fears were doubled; — 
 this was a year of evil omen, he thought, while 
 dividing the tw^enty bands into their unequal 
 numbers; another year, and their vows had 
 been exchanged with brighter hopes. On^
 
 144 GLENLONELY. 
 
 thing consoled him, that, in compliance with 
 Lord Glenlonely's request, the marriage was 
 not to take place until after Emily St. Clair 
 came into possession of the property bequeathed 
 by his Lordship's brother, and this would not 
 be until she had attained the age of twenty-five. 
 The superstitious feelings of Moggeridge 
 caught at this as a reprieve : fancies, dark and 
 undefined, crossed his visions of the future, 
 but " the present moment is our ain — the 
 next may never be;" and he regarded the pre- 
 sent as we can imagine the blessed spirits to 
 have watched the dwindling days of Paradise, 
 when woman was about to gather of the tree 
 of knowledge. Poor Moggeridge ! he might 
 have spared himself many a solemn prognosti- 
 cation, could he have peeped into futurity. 
 There is a book where past, present, future, are 
 written in imperishable light, but luckily for 
 man he has no pov/er to lift the shrouding veil. 
 His mind may wander in the utter darkness 
 which surrounds the barrier — it may linger 
 and be lost — or return to tell the folly of its 
 daring; to feel, that for aught it knows, not
 
 GLENLONELY. 145 
 
 another instant may be given to write or speak 
 the confession of humbled ignorance. 
 
 The second sight of Moggeridge had looked 
 upon coming events with the rays of the past. 
 He remembered, as we all do, the trials which 
 had come home to himself, and his solicitude 
 for Herbert only anticipated some storm or 
 shipwreck after marriage ; till then, he dreamt 
 of nought but sunshine. 
 
 When he heard that Herbert Lindsay was 
 about to leave his country, home, and Emily 
 St. Clair for ever, he was utterly foiled ; he 
 stood the frozen image of wonderment. It is 
 difficult to say when he would have thawed into 
 life, had not the voice which communicated the 
 fact also proposed that he should once again 
 resume his travels : yes, it was the broken- 
 hearted Herbert who addressed this faithful 
 servant, and, forcing himself to wear a smile, 
 said, " You, John, will not desert me in the 
 day of sorrow ? " 
 
 As he asked this question, or, rather, as he 
 made this prayer, which he knew would be 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 146 GLENLONELY. 
 
 granted, he withdrew the hand with which 
 Moggeridge strove to collect the senses of his 
 startled brain ; he pressed it between his own, 
 and raised it to his lips, as he would have done 
 to the hand of a father. 
 
 There are moments of deep emotion, when 
 our feelings burst the barriers of form, and we 
 are true to nature. Our actions may be styled 
 unnatural ; may seem, as, indeed, they are, ex- 
 ceptions to the rules society has framed ; they 
 may raise the sneer of man, when angels would 
 applaud : they are true to nature, for all are 
 equal in the eye of God ; and were perfection 
 possible on earth, we should feel, as, indeed, we 
 are, brethren of one and the same flock. 
 
 How well we remember the kiss which taught 
 us these reflections ! It was some century ago 
 when we were young in manhood ; rich to over- 
 flowing, and living in the land of promise : 
 the treacherous tide, though taken at the ebb, 
 led on to ruin. There was an earthquake in 
 the land ; the tide sank with the shock, and 
 forgot to rise again : but youth can swim in 
 troubled waters ; its buoyancy is soon recovered ;
 
 GLENLONELY. 147 
 
 and again we held up our head after the duck- 
 ing we had had. 
 
 Near to the lands where once we claimed a 
 home, there lived the kindest-hearted woman 
 in the world ! We had been her pet from the 
 time she crammed us with cake, to the hour 
 when she glanced at her pretty daughters, and 
 thought, peradventm-e, of a son-in-law. Be 
 this as it may, our changing tide left her heart 
 where it was ; and the first time we called after 
 the bustle of misfortune, instead of the warm 
 and wonted pressure of the hand, she folded 
 us like an infant to her bosom, planted a kiss 
 upon our cheek, and watered it with tears ! ! ! 
 Had the chaste and gentle moon stooped to kiss 
 the sinking sun, it could not have surprised or 
 shocked us more. A young man does not like 
 to be kissed by a woman of sixty and odd : a 
 very old or very young one might be tolerated ! 
 but the mere old woman is most decidedly ob- 
 jectionable. 
 
 We blush to think how ungraciously we shrank 
 from the ovei'flowings of her love and s}Tnpathy ! 
 We have lived to learn the value of an act we 
 H 2
 
 148 GLENLONELY. 
 
 once derided ; ay, despite of age, we can blush 
 for our ingratitude noio^ as we did then^ while 
 her beautiful daughter archly smiled at our utter 
 confusion. Poor kind soul ! she has long since 
 sunk into the arms of death, and her daughter 
 is — foreign to our purpose. 
 
 The case with Moggeridge was reversed : the 
 kiss which Herbert gave was a gift unseen ; 
 none were by to scoff or sneer ; it was received 
 as given ; it worked with a charm more potent 
 than the mystic bands. Moggeridge felt that 
 he had a duty to perform ; and, bending on one 
 knee, he seized on Herbert's hand, returned 
 the gift, and swore amidst his tears to shield 
 him as he would his bairn. 
 
 Probably there had never been a moment 
 when such devotion was more required. Her- 
 bert Lindsay, gifted as he was above his fellows, 
 was wantino^ in that stren<?th of mind which 
 supports the body in the day of trial. In form 
 and constitution weak, he shrank from the bick- 
 erings of life, like the ocean anemone touched 
 by the child of earth : intellectual, quick, and 
 deeply observant, he read the actions of men
 
 GLENLOXELY. 149 
 
 with a silent glance ; he detected the rogue, 
 yet submitted to his fraud. He would rather be 
 cheated than battle for his due ; it cost him 
 less than the pain of exposing to his face the 
 meanness or injustice of a villain. In following 
 the course of right and honour, his determination 
 never flagged ; his decision, once formed, was 
 never to be shaken : but this was the spirit of 
 the soul, upright and calm, in the midst of the 
 storm which bowed the body. He possessed 
 not that mental and bodily strength which sup- 
 port each other, and enable men to fight their 
 way amidst the snares of fellow-men; he was 
 born for the empire of home, peace, and good 
 will, but not for the wanderings of an exile. 
 
 The decision he had made was quickly acted 
 upon. His father's roof might no longer be 
 shared; and he would have sought the wilds of 
 America, the desert, or regions of eternal ice, 
 rather than have driven Emily St. Clair from 
 the orphan's home. 
 
 Had his father's happiness depended on liis 
 presence, had he ever received from that father 
 the love which he felt and yearned to develope, 
 H 3
 
 150 GLENLONELY. 
 
 the sacrifice had been greater than it was : their 
 mutual position prevented this. Lord Glen- 
 lonely's weakness, or, perhaps we should say, 
 aberration of mind, increased rather than di- 
 minished. As far as acts went, nothing was 
 neglected which could tend to the comforts of 
 Herbert. The fondest, the most devoted of 
 fathers could not have thought nor done more 
 to supply the wants of a son ; yet they rarely 
 met. Herbert, glowing with gratitude, and 
 feeling only compassion, would have rejoiced 
 might he have fallen at his father's feet, and 
 asked a blessing; but he subdued this selfish 
 impulse of his heart, and stood afar ; like one 
 who watches without the chamber of sickness, 
 yet dares not approach the bed where lies the 
 dearest tie on earth ; who envies the physician, 
 the humble menial allowed to pass, but dares 
 not enter, knowing the mischief his presence 
 might achieve. 
 
 So far his affliction was lightened; but, on 
 the other hand, the one-absorbing grief weighed 
 in consequence with undivided power : few, 
 indeed, can pass to the grave, and at no one
 
 GLEXLONELY. 151 
 
 period of life have felt this intensity of woe : 
 none who have felt it can forget the restless 
 and frenzied fever it creates. Inaction be- 
 comes the torture of death, without the pos- 
 sibiHty of djdng. The thorn has pierced the 
 soul, and festers there : a quenchless fire burns 
 within the brain ; we fly from spot to spot ; 
 we welcome the blast of the north, and think 
 in our flight to cool the fire within : the hope 
 is idle; again we rest, and again the brain is 
 fired : — and, oh, the agony of night ! — of 
 sleepless night, which seems eternal in dura- 
 tion ! Who has not sometimes kno^\^l such 
 hours as these ? Happy indeed is he who 
 cannot comprehend why Herbert rushed from 
 the scenes which blighted hopes had changed 
 from paradise to hell. 
 
 Beloved as a son, revered as his lord, 
 Mo^seridge was ever at his side. The sternest 
 scenery, the path of danger, the day which 
 dawned in wild adventure, — these were the 
 drops of momentary balm. On and on they 
 journeyed, as if there were healing in the 
 thought of distance. Herbert felt like the 
 H 4
 
 152 GLENLONELY. 
 
 bard of Israel, and wished " for the wings of 
 the dove, to flee away and be at rest." But, 
 alas ! like him, he imaged the happiness of 
 flight, yet could tell of no one spot where man 
 might rest in peace. 
 
 When the tenor of our life is even, the mind 
 and body alternately relieve each other ; under 
 the pressure of woe, we can only relieve the 
 former at the expense of the latter ; and thus it 
 was that Herbert could hope for the repose 
 of sleep only by exhausting his bodily powers. 
 Day after day he encountered fatigues, under 
 which he would have sunk in happier days; 
 and, like the unavailing struggles of the 
 wounded, they only hastened the loss of re- 
 maining force. Still, however, he persisted, 
 though often compelled to pause, and seek 
 shelter for the night where few had dared to 
 enter : then it was that the devoted Mogge- 
 ridge was all to Herbert : with the gentleness 
 of woman's love, he would contrive the com- 
 forts of a couch, kindle the cheering flame, 
 prepare some tiny bits of food, and serve with 
 appetising cleanhness. Blest in the pains be-
 
 GLENLONELY. 153 
 
 Stowed, yet he would plead the trouble he had 
 taken, and thus persuade the wearied Herbert 
 to share the meal he had prepared. This duty 
 done, with tact as shrewd and fine, he would 
 talk of dangers they had passed, and tell the 
 travels of his younger days, but set a seal upon 
 the legends of his native hills ; then, sitting by 
 the bed, he would watch " his bairn '* with a 
 mother's eye, until the heavy eyelids fell, and 
 Herbert's sorrows slumbered in the haven of 
 the weary : and then, how changed the bear- 
 ing of this faithful being ! Rising in the ma- 
 jesty of perfect form, he stood like Samson, 
 a host within himself. AVith noiseless skill he 
 prepared against surprise, faced the possible 
 approach, and sat with pistols by his side, 
 his dirk unsheathed, and his trusty battle-axe 
 between his knees. From time to time he re- 
 freshed the dying embers ; and, as the flickering 
 flame arose, glancing on Herbert's pallid cheek, 
 and showing, in bold relief, the limbs and 
 sinews of the sleepless centinel, the contrast 
 formed the image of resistless might and utter 
 helplessness. Herbert Lindsay was no baby, 
 H 5
 
 154 GLENLOXELY. 
 
 and Moggeridge grace in every line; or we 
 might once more have turned to India for a 
 simile: they who have seen the gigantic ele- 
 phant charged by its keeper with an infant's 
 life ; they who have marked this gentle, docile, 
 huge, resistless mass, guarding the innocent 
 which slumbered at its feet, warding the poi- 
 soned spear of gnat or fly, yet ready to resist 
 tlie tiger's spring ; they who have seen this, 
 and read the vigil of the faithful Moggeridge, 
 will, we suspect, wander with our thoughts to 
 the memory of Indian scenes. 
 
 They who rather court than shrink from 
 death, are apt to escape unharmed : and how 
 often is the victim hurried from the bed of roses 
 and the dream of sweet security ! Thus it 
 chanced with Herbert Lindsay ; he survived a 
 thousand perils, and it was not until Italy was 
 opened to his steps, and his strength yielded to 
 the necessity of rest, that he fixed on Castel 
 a Mare for the exile's home. There again Mog- 
 geridge was invaluable : possessed in some degree 
 with a turn for mechanics, and trained by Glen- 
 lonely in the love of architecture, he readily
 
 GLENLONELY. 155 
 
 entered into the views of Herbert, and encou- 
 raged a pursuit likely to wean the mourner 
 from his grief. Herbert had long since given 
 his mind to these interesting studies ; and he 
 now caught at the idea of calling his knowledge 
 into action. Having purchased the remains, we 
 might almost say the ruins, of an old castle, with 
 a considerable tract of surrounding land, he plan- 
 ned the restoration of the more perfect parts. 
 — But we must reserve the description of the 
 exile's home to a separate chapter. 
 
 To continue the services of Moggeridge, we 
 need only say that he remained with Herbert until 
 the designs were completed ; and there, had he 
 followed his fondest wishes, he would have re- 
 mained; but letters, lately received, spoke oF 
 the declining state of Lord Glenlonely's health: 
 he needed more than ever the assistance of his 
 steward; and Herbert decided upon sending 
 him to Scotland. The occupation of mind and 
 body had done more for him than all the 
 changes of his restless wandering; or, rather, 
 from the wings of Time a dew had fallen on his 
 brow; a holy balm had cooled the fevered 
 H 6
 
 156 GLEXLOXELY. 
 
 I^rain, and resignation sprang where dark de- 
 spair had reigned. Yes, it was rather that Time, 
 in its flight, had brought the fitting hour for the 
 mind's repose. Books, paintings, music, flow^ 
 ers, all the varied stores which yield the food of 
 intellect or fancy's holyday, were now a con- 
 solation ; but these, the same, had been but 
 a mockery when first he left his Emily : the 
 remedy must meet the case. What availed the 
 opiate's charm when the rabid tooth had pierced 
 the vein ? The kindest words were chains of 
 air to bind the madman's rage. Spring cannot 
 stay the storm, nor the bruised reed recover 
 until the storm is past. " Verily, there is a 
 time for all things," says the Wisdom of Anti- 
 quity ; and so also said John Moggeridge, as he 
 ransacked his stock of philosophy. Poor fellow ! 
 he needed some support to strengthen his ac- 
 quiescence in departure. If he loved Glenlonely 
 as his lord, Herbert Lindsay was woven in his 
 heart, and had become a part of himself. He 
 loved him as his bairn, as the flower he had 
 reared and rescued from a thousand perils. 
 There was a struggle between love and duty;
 
 GLENLONELY. 157 
 
 but the wishes of father and son had ever 
 been his law. He consoled himself by thinking 
 of the comforts of the exile's home ; and, dwell- 
 ing on his sense of duty, he departed, with the 
 maxim on his lips, " Verily, there is a time 
 for all things." What mere machines are the 
 best of men I How often the maxim on the 
 lips is opposed to the wishes of the heart ! how 
 often do we act mechanically ! The motion is 
 given, mighty, wonderful, and perfect; the good 
 work is wrought, and the frail machine is 
 praised, while the power is forgotten. In our 
 best of deeds, how much of evil would appear, 
 could man, like God, read in the hearts of men ! 
 And here we must pause, were it only to 
 allow the faithful steward to cross the seas : but 
 we have another reason, and beg to assure the 
 reader, that we feel more interest in his welfare 
 than he can do in the safe arrival of Mog- 
 geridge, the great and good. We therefore 
 are also willing to allow him a few minutes to 
 take in and digest the scope of his departing 
 reflections.
 
 158 GLENLONELY. 
 
 CHAP. VI. — continued; 
 
 OR, 
 THE soldier's DREAM. 
 
 It was in Spain. I lay beneath the shade 
 
 Her chestnuts cast ; and, pillow'd on the turf, 
 
 I dreamt a dream. Methought I stood alone 
 
 Upon an isle, desert, but beautiful ; 
 
 All fruits and flowers were there to please the sense. 
 
 Or satisfy the wants of mortal man : 
 
 But still I was alone — when, lo! a form, 
 
 The very form from boyhood vision'd, 
 
 Assumed reality. " I come," she said, 
 
 " To dwell with thee, to love, to kneel in prayer, 
 
 To blend our thoughts, our souls, in unison. 
 
 And be as one for aye." With that she smiled, 
 
 A.S angels smile when sinners weep and turn 
 
 To their Redeemer's cup. While yet I gazed. 
 
 And listen'd to a voice which linger'd as 
 
 The chords of harmonj', the island shook, 
 
 The waters heaved as if in agony. 
 
 The lightnings flash'd, and deaf'ning thunders spoke 
 
 As heralds of an earthquake. I awoke. 
 
 And heard the cannon roar, the din of arms : 
 
 I lived and died alone. 
 
 A. Bird. 
 
 When Colonel Murray returned from his long 
 campaign, next to his own family, the faithful
 
 GLEXLOXELY. 159 
 
 Moggeridge was sought. The old Steward 
 loved him for the love he bore to Herbert 
 Lindsay, and somewhat for the zeal with which 
 he listened to his tales. Many an hour they 
 passed together ; and John, in his old age, was 
 likely to add to the list of his acquu'ements. On 
 foot, or on horseback, he generally accompanied 
 the Colonel as closely as an aide-de-camp ; and, 
 while the soldier pointed out the beguiling 
 strength of this or that position, and drew, in 
 imagination, the lines of fortification, expatiating 
 on the beauties of an ambush here, or a masked 
 battery there, Moggeridge was grateful, and re- 
 paid the debt of listening. He assented with 
 many a " Yes ;" for it gave him a loophole, from 
 which he might fire a shot or two himself: then 
 would he tell how he fortified a door here, a 
 window there; how he had escaped from one 
 wild refuge, or forced the entrance of another; 
 and, after dwelling, as travellers are wont, on 
 his own adventures, he would say, " No wonder, 
 Colonel, that I listen to your tales of angles and 
 bastions ; my life has been that of a soldier for 
 many a year. Have I not been the Glenlonely's
 
 160 GLENLONELY. 
 
 body guard? and many's the day when this 
 strong arm has won the victory. I speak not 
 in boast, but thankfully to him who made this 
 body as a shield to those I loved. Though my 
 battles have been many, I bow, Colonel, to 
 your knowledge in the art of war ; and I pray 
 your pardon, if I err in thinking your batteries 
 and bastions are nothing to a battle-axe : a man 
 can rest it on his shoulder by day, and put it 
 under his pillow by night." 
 
 " That may be, John," said the Colonel, 
 " when a soldier is lucky enough to get a pillow 
 for his head: if not, give me a cannon for my 
 pillow, a curtain of stone that will turn an 
 iron ball." 
 
 The Colonel's laugh and joke were equally 
 thi'own away ; they failed in driving John from 
 a position which he aiid his ancestors had held 
 from time immemorial. The battle-axe, like 
 the two-handed sword, must have owed much 
 of its efficacy to muscular power ; a property 
 which, in the family of Moggeridge, seemed to 
 have past, like their name, from one generation
 
 GLENLOXELY. 161 
 
 to another, and gro\\TL with its growth in our 
 present representative. 
 
 It may be readily supposed that their convers- 
 ations frequently turned to Herbert Lindsay, 
 and the description of his wild retreat : it was 
 from this source that the Colonel gathered, as 
 nearly as might be, the bearings of the spot he 
 intended to visit : this was no easy matter. Mog- 
 geridge, in attempting an illustration, would 
 seek the end of his dirk, and scratch a chart on 
 the rock where they chanced to be resting : by 
 this means he was able to point out the relative 
 positions of the nearest inhabited places; but 
 the " somewhere thereabout " was generally the 
 nearest point to be attained with certainty. 
 
 We would not, for the value of the world we 
 know, for the wealth that may be in worlds we 
 know not, wronc^ John Moofo-erido-e : he was, 
 we remember, a travelled man, and a man of 
 many languages, English amongst the number ; 
 and, as v.e believe that the " somewhere there- 
 about" were the words he used, so also we hope 
 they are English. We wish, for his sake, we could
 
 16*2 GLENLONELY. 
 
 refer; but " Todd's Johnson," with all its merits, 
 is but a heavy travelling companion. 
 
 Accustomed, as we have been for years, to a 
 Babylonian variety, we hope to be forgiven if 
 we occasionally exoticise our native language, 
 though, as a general rule, w^e condemn the prac- 
 tice of larding one tongue with the scraps we 
 have gathered from others : that language is 
 not worth writing, which is wanting in words 
 to express itself. 
 
 For John's sake, we should be sorry to attri- 
 bute to him words which bordered on vulgar 
 error : for ourselves, we are indifferent, as to 
 our seeming they forcibly depict his extremely 
 doubtful accounts. 
 
 " The Castle," said John, "is in Tuscany, 
 which every body knows to be somewhere in 
 Italy; the nearest village is somewhere about 
 fifteen or twenty miles off, or might be almost 
 double, unless one knew the mountain tracks ; 
 there is a town, about ten miles off, where the 
 Romans lived about the birth of Christ, or 
 somewhere thereabouts (John was no chrono- 
 logist) ; Florence, the nearest post town, is
 
 GLENLONELY. 163 
 
 about fifty miles off, or thereabouts (not having 
 been measured, it was hard to say) ; but the vil- 
 lage of Albergo di Castello is the only land- 
 mark any where about ; and there the traveller 
 must go, if he hopes to find the exile's home of 
 ' Castel a Mare : ' such was the name the ruins 
 bore ; not," as Moggeridge would learnedly ex- 
 plain, " from being somewhere on the sea shore 
 (for it is, he could not say how many miles, from 
 it) ; but rather because, from heights about a 
 quarter of a mile from the Castle, both the 
 Adriatic and Mediterranean can be seen at 
 once." 
 
 " That is, I presume, " said the Colonel," if 
 a man squinted intolerably, or was made, as a 
 centinel ought to be, like the Siamese twins : 
 a bad site for a Castle, John, with some four- 
 and- twenty pounders playing from above." 
 
 John smiled at this professional point of view, 
 and said, " Stop till you get there. Colonel : not 
 so bad as you fancy. Why, bless your noble 
 heart ! you might as well think of sticking a 
 whale on the tip of the topgallant>mast ; and, 
 if you did get your cannon up, they would be of
 
 164 GLENLONELY. 
 
 little use, unless you could make them traverse, 
 like a compass, on the point of a pinnacle. 
 No ; gunpowder, treason, or plot, could do 
 little harm from the heights I speak of." 
 
 It was thus that the Colonel, alternately 
 playful and grave, continued to get some know- 
 ledge of the haunts he intended to explore. 
 Our opening chapter must have proved that he 
 had not laboured in vain : the Albergo di Cas- 
 tello was discovered. The village (if a few 
 humble dwellings deserve the name) had for- 
 merly been a town of some extent, and proba- 
 bly was dignified by the title of " citta," when 
 the neighbouring " Castel a Mare " stood in 
 the pride of feudal power. It had followed the 
 fate of the tower which once gave it strength ; 
 and now took its name from the only tolerable 
 house remaining, and which had been honoured 
 with a title familiar to English ears, as the 
 " Castle Inn." The landlord was the principal 
 farmer of the district, and depended, as may 
 be imagined, more on the produce of his farm 
 than the profits of his inn. 
 
 Colonel Murray had travelled too much to
 
 GLEyLONELY. 165 
 
 be dazzled from afar by the high-sounding titles 
 of the quarters he sought : consequently, he 
 was contented with accommodation something 
 less than that of an English alehouse. Having 
 arrived late at night, and commanded the 
 best possible supper in the least possible time, 
 he invited his host to partake of the best Faler- 
 nian that he could produce. An officer who 
 has served much acquires extraordinary tact 
 in worming out what he wants to know, and 
 deciding on measures he means to adopt. 
 Before the bottle had ceased to bow its neck to 
 the tumbler, all was arranged. '• !Mine host " 
 was acquainted with Herbert Lindsay; a pea- 
 sant was called in. He knew the tracks to 
 Castel a Mare, and was instructed to depart at 
 sunrise with a letter, which he should receive 
 that night. When the office was proposed, and 
 seconded by a promised reward, there were 
 symptoms of hesitation on the part of the pea- 
 sant : these, however, were soon removed by a 
 few animated words from the host, and spoken 
 in a dialect unknown to the Colonel. When 
 they were alone, the doubts were easily ex-
 
 166 GLENLONELY. 
 
 plained: it seemed that Herbert's knowledge 
 of mechanics, joined to his love of experimental 
 philosophy, had gained him the reputation of 
 one who dealt in magic ; still, love was mingled 
 with the awe his name inspired. There were 
 few around who had not tasted of his charity, 
 and listened to the silver tones which made 
 the offering doubly sweet. At first, the idea of 
 entering within the castle walls — it might be, 
 of witnessing some of the wonders magnified by 
 the tongue of superstition — was a startling pro- 
 position, and it required the eloquence of the 
 host to overcome the peasant's fears. 
 
 Had the Colonel followed the impulse of his 
 yearnings, he would have accompanied the 
 messenger ; but, thinking of Herbert's delicate 
 state of health, he bridled his impatience, and 
 determined to wait until his arrival was an- 
 nounced. Having written to this effect, he re- 
 tired to rest; and, while he was devising the 
 means of shortening the tedium of delay, he hit 
 upon the best, and sank into utter forgetfulness. 
 
 The following morning, with the first return 
 to living life, the busy brain resumed the work
 
 GLENLONELY. 167 
 
 which the night had interrupted ; or, what may 
 be nearer to the truth, the brain had worked 
 while the weary body slept, like the clock which 
 pursues its appointed course, while the power 
 which created the movement is powerless and 
 still. Whether this be truth or not, the waking 
 thoughts were the same as those which closed 
 the Colonel's eyes. It appeared as if the train 
 had been divided for an instant, and he actually 
 started to find how many hours had been stolen 
 in the depth of sleep. 
 
 " I wish," said the Colonel, as he anxiously 
 awaited an answer, " I wish that our hearts 
 were as cool as our gunpowder, and could wait 
 till the word is given to fire. What a train of 
 idle hopes and fears might be spared ! what a 
 waste of ammunition might be saved ! " 
 
 It is curious to observe, how our reflections of 
 to-day may often be traced to a source which 
 is buried in the ruins of departed years ; yet, 
 like the family likeness, lost for a time, and 
 reappearing in the fourth or fifth generation, 
 the origin is not to be mistaken. Colonel Mur- 
 ray, while debating how four and twenty hours
 
 168 GLENLONELY. 
 
 might be killed, not unnaturally thought of the 
 material so familiar to a soldier, and its ready 
 obedience to the word of command; but the 
 wish was no sooner uttered, than he stood by 
 its long-forgotten source, and looked on the 
 only woman he had ever found time to love. 
 We err, perhaps, in using the word love, for, 
 as we have said, he was wedded to his profes- 
 sion; and, since polygamy is unwisely forbid- 
 den, he certainly had no right to fall in love ; 
 at least, his admiration was such, that he had 
 forgotten the vow he had sworn to the goddess 
 of war, to cleave to her alone. He thought, as 
 most do, of marrying some odd day or other : he 
 was hurried, as many are, to seal his fate at 
 once, and decided on wearing that fetter, which, 
 in the field or at the bar hampers the aspirant 
 like a clog on the fetlock of a racer. 
 
 If ever there were the plea of justification, 
 the Colonel had it. The being who surprised 
 his heart seemed born to be a soldier's wife. 
 Purely Spanish on the mother's side, partly 
 English on the father's, she inherited the bet- 
 ter qualities of each nation. High and noble-
 
 GLENLONELY. 169 
 
 minded; in virtue stronger than the strength of 
 passion ; formed for devotion, enterprise, or 
 home ; feminine, yet active as the light ga- 
 zelle, with eyes which sparkled with a hero- 
 ine's fire when Spain, her wTongs or enemies, 
 were named : change but the theme, the eye- 
 lid fell, the battery was masked, the long 
 and silken lashes veiled the beauteous orbs, 
 where only dwelt the soul of love. Such was 
 the being who, in secret, idolised the Colonel, 
 and to whom he had resolved to surrender. 
 
 " To-morrow," he said within himself, " we 
 meet again, and to-morrow shall decide my 
 fate." This determination was not attained 
 without more thought than man in love is apt 
 to bestow. His slender means, the trials of a 
 soldier's wife, and a thousand consequences, 
 made him pause for a time, but, once decided, 
 he gave himself up to all the visions of happiness 
 and love — if, indeed, as he had dared to hope, 
 his affections were returned. 
 
 The morrow came. The voice of music 
 and the blaze of light announced the hour of 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 170 GLENLONELY. 
 
 revelry and dance. They met, and he imaged 
 a thousand charms unseen till then; he had not 
 dared till then to think how beautiful she was, 
 how fervently he loved, as they mingled in the 
 dance, or shrank from the festive crowd. He 
 wished to tell the hopes which trembled on his 
 lips. They had been the one absorbing thought 
 throughout the day ; and thoughts had assumed 
 involuntary words ; but now, alas ! when most 
 he needed their assistance, they deserted the 
 gallant Colonel, and the eyes alone continued 
 faithful to his wishes. A Spanish woman is not 
 slower than another in reading this language ; 
 and these moments of silent admiration — this 
 confession of the power she held over the heart 
 of the brave — were more to Carlota de Basse- 
 court, than language could have given. These 
 moments, the happiest in her life, were rudely 
 closed. " To arms ! to arms ! " was the cry v/hich 
 closed their fleeting spell; and the warning 
 drums, and the voice of bloody war, jarred, 
 like the raven's croak, amidst the harmony of 
 silent adoration.
 
 GLENLONELY. 171 
 
 For the first and the last time in Colonel 
 Murray's life he shuddered at the soldier's 
 summons. It was a moment of agony — of deep, 
 untold regret. Trembling and pale, he seized 
 Carlota's hand, and pressed it to his quivering 
 lips. Again the summons pealed upon his ear; 
 he dropped the hand which he had still re- 
 tained, and said, " Carlota, we must part ! " 
 
 The spell had passed which choked his ut- 
 terance ; but, ah ! how changed the words 
 from those his hopes had nursed ! how few in 
 number, and yet how stern, how powerful in 
 import ! It was a Roman fiat against the ob- 
 ject best beloved; and she, the gentler spirit, 
 listened with a courage worthy of a Roman's 
 daughter. She raised her eyes, and read the 
 soldier's self-possession ; the look commanding — 
 brave — resolved. Kindling with enthusiasm, 
 she said, " May this right hand, now linked 
 with mine, be nerved with strength to slay ! 
 May it grasp the sword till victory be won, and 
 vengeance rendered to a righteous cause ! " 
 
 The change was sudden — stern, if not ter- 
 I 2
 
 1 72 GLENLOXELY. 
 
 rific : it may seem so to those who dwell in 
 peace, and have never felt the scourge of war ; 
 but at that dread moment there w^as as perfect 
 harmony between the two, as when they drank 
 the nectar of impassioned love. 
 
 They met no more. Long ere the heroine's 
 prayer was fulfilled on the field of Waterloo, 
 she was sleeping in the silent grave. The Co- 
 lonel's secret never passed his lips; nor was it 
 likely to do so, when she, who alone could have 
 prized its worth, was deaf alike to the roaring 
 cannon or the voice of love — passion, fire, 
 energy, and life. The features which a word 
 could light, the eyes which flashed with angry 
 rays when wrongs w^ere told, filled with the 
 dew of heaven when misery was near, or glowed 
 as softly as the setting sun when Murray's 
 step was heard — all was dark and still ! She 
 slumbered, to awake no more until that trumpet 
 sounds which shall awake the dead, and call 
 the good to everlasting peace. 
 
 Within an hour from the warning of the 
 beating drums. Colonel Murray was marching 
 at the head of his regiment ; within six months
 
 GLENLOXELY. 173 
 
 Carlota de Bassecourt met a death worthy of the 
 poet's pen in the days of chivahy and fame. 
 
 One amidst the brave besieged in the city 
 
 of , she passed from side to side, to tend 
 
 the wounded and support the dying. \Miere 
 danger threatened and the vahant drooped, 
 she stood like a star of hght, and infused the 
 spirit of her souL The city was saved : but, as 
 the enemy retreated, one fatal shell was thrown, 
 and, bursting at her feet, she fell in the arms of 
 victory, and wore, in death, the crown which 
 AA-as destined for the living and triumphant. 
 
 Such was the tragedy the Colonel's simile 
 had revived. We have endeavoured to be con- 
 cise ; but memory and thought can play a thou- 
 sand acts, ere one line be written. 
 
 If we paused while a brave, a faithful servant 
 travelled to his dying lord, not forgetting the 
 reader's benefit within the given time, are we not 
 doubly called upon to do as much for woman — 
 for her, the heroine, whose bright, though brief 
 careei', we have faintly drawn ? 
 
 Yes ! well may we pause, if not to drop the 
 I 3
 
 174 GLENLONELY. 
 
 silent tear, at least to pay the homage of some 
 few moments passed in silent, solemn thought. 
 
 Another duty stays the progress of our pen. 
 When travelling in Spain, and collecting the 
 varied threads of the tale we weave, we sojourned 
 in the city whose name is blended with its he- 
 roine. Our guide was an old soldier, maimed 
 and disabled in his country's cause. After lead- 
 ing us to the fortifications, and showing the 
 points of obstinate attack, and still more de- 
 termined defence, " Now," he said, " let me 
 lead you to the spot where her ashes rest." 
 We followed without uttering a vrord; and 
 having threaded the windings of the narrow 
 streets, came suddenly upon a fine old cathe- 
 dral. Branching from its stately aisles, we en- 
 tered a small chapel, in the centre of which was 
 a monument, chaste and simple in the extreme, 
 and sculptured in marble as pure and spotless 
 as the beino: who slumbered beneath. We had 
 remained some minutes to admire the design, 
 when the guide silently pointed to an inscrip- 
 tion, which had escaped our notice. ^Ve ap- 
 proached, and read : —
 
 GLENLONELY. 175 
 
 TO 
 
 CARLOTA DE BASSECOURT: 
 
 THE YOUNG, THE BEAUTIFUL, 
 
 AND BRAVE. 
 
 BY 
 
 A BRITISH OFFICER. 
 
 Then and tliere we made a vow, that if we 
 ever committed to paper the records we had 
 gathered, this simple but touching epitaph 
 should be transcribed, and given to the 
 reader. 
 
 It was to no purpose that we strove to satisfy 
 our curiosity, and anxiously inquired the name 
 of him who had paid this tribute. " No one," 
 was the reply, " can answer that inquiry. He, 
 in whom alone the truth reposed, is now no 
 more; and, when alive, was sworn to secrecy. 
 The whole was begun and completed through 
 an aged priest, confessor to the De Bassecourt 
 family." 
 
 We need scarcely say, that had we succeeded, 
 I 4
 
 176 GLENLONELY. 
 
 the reader should have shared in our inform- 
 ation. As it is, we must leave him to his own 
 surmises ; and, having fulfilled our vow, lose 
 no time in proceeding with the gallant Colonel 
 Murray.
 
 GLENLONELY. 177 
 
 CHAP. VI. ~ concluded. 
 
 THE FRIENDS MEET. 
 
 That cannot be the same ! or, if it be, 
 Then sorrow is a thief who robs the cheek, 
 And plucks the rose. She is an alchemist, 
 And prodigal in art ; for she transmutes 
 The warm and golden locks to silver'd snow. 
 She is the husbandman of Father Time, 
 And plants his tear-steeped furrows with a frown. 
 My friend ? it cannot be ; you do but jest. 
 
 A. Bird. 
 
 If Colonel Murray's wish of subjecting the 
 heart to the word of command — if the simile 
 he imagined in the word " gunpowder " had 
 fired a train of melancholy — in the end it fur- 
 nished a resource for killing time. He gave 
 the word to his dog — poured a bumper in his 
 powder-flask — and, gun in hand, hurried to 
 the mountain solitude. 
 
 I 5
 
 178 GLENLONELY. 
 
 The exercise and air, the grandeur and va- 
 riety of scenery, had the desired effect; his 
 spirits rose, though he missed again and again. 
 Whether it were the wind, the dust, or insects 
 bent upon a watery grave, we cannot decide ; 
 but a something there was which that day dim- 
 med the Colonel's vision, and he shot worse 
 than he had done since he first learnt to pull a 
 trigger. 
 
 As he was quite aware that his messenger 
 could not return until the evening, he had or- 
 dered his dinner, and promised to rejoin two 
 Tuscan noblemen, who were on their way to 
 Florence. The Italian hour for supper would 
 serve for the Englishman's dinner, and by that 
 time he hoped to have escaped from the cloud 
 of melancholy which had shadowed his polite- 
 ness in the morning. The travellers had in- 
 vited him to join the breakfast table, and dis- 
 played that courtesy and good-breeding which 
 abound in Tuscany. The offer had been ac- 
 cepted ; but conscience whispered that his mind 
 had been too abstracted to allow of that return 
 which their attentions deserved.
 
 GLENLONELY. 179 
 
 When the strong and light of heart are 
 bowed by sickness or touched by sorrow, their 
 eyes are opened to the mercies and blessings 
 of God. For moments free from pain, for tears 
 which bring relief to deep intensity of woe, 
 they offer prayers of gratitude, forgotten and 
 neglected w^hen every moment teemed with 
 happiness and health. Such is the inconsistency 
 of man ! and thus it is our ungrateful hearts 
 are tutored in the school of suffering. It is then 
 we learn the value of a gift withdrawn by Him 
 who gives us all ! 
 
 Strange, but not less true is the fact, tha 
 man, for ever standing on the brink of eternity, 
 w^alks as if he w^ere not doomed to fall : holding 
 his span of life by sufferance and will, he lives 
 as if the loan were immortality on earth. Like 
 an Eastern prince, robed from his birth in lux- 
 ury and gems, he wears his blessings with indif- 
 ference, until the gem is lost, or it sinks within 
 the gulph no eye can fathom, the dark, deep 
 abyss of all perishable things. Such were the 
 meditations of Colonel Murray, as he watched 
 the glories of the sinking sun, and found him- 
 I 6
 
 180 GLENLONELY. 
 
 self near one of those picturesque, though small 
 and simple churches, which stud the land of 
 Italy. 
 
 His mind had been tuned to the calHng of re- 
 ligion ; and, luckily for those who wish to enter 
 and pay the offerings of prayer, the doors are 
 ever open. It is only in England that we have 
 to search for the sexton or clerk, and gain ad- 
 mittance to the house of God by the payment of 
 a fee. Here, the Colonel had only to hang his 
 game-bag on a neighbouring olive, and leave it, 
 with his gun, in the charge of his faithful Cato. 
 Having done this, he drew aside the heavy 
 curtain which protected the entrance, and was 
 immediately struck by the contrast to the ex- 
 terior : there was neither gaudiness nor splen- 
 dour, but there was that which told at once of 
 means and taste superior to the humble inha- 
 bitants around. The evening rays glowed with 
 a double warmth through windows of painted 
 glass, and dimmed the ever burning lamp. The 
 marble font, which held the holy water, was 
 exquisitely chiselled : a picture of the pure 
 Virgin realised all that the mind could image
 
 GLENLONELY. 181 
 
 of the Mother of Jesus. The altar was of wood, 
 but exquisitely carved; over this, in a small 
 recess, was a cross of ebony, bearing the figure 
 of the Lamb of God, in the act of completing 
 the sacrifice for the sins of man. The Colonel 
 entered with the reverence due to the place of 
 worship, and, unheeded by the few who were 
 gathered together, he bent his knee, and pray- 
 ed with fervour and devotion. If a soldier's 
 prayers are generally short, we will not believe 
 them to be less sincere, or less acceptable. The 
 Colonel, though the last to enter, was about 
 to be the first to retire, when his attention was 
 rivetted by a figure, which, till then, had escaped 
 his notice. The figure in question had been 
 partly concealed by one of the rude and mas- 
 sive columns which supported the roof: rising, 
 however, from the steps which led to the altar, 
 and shrouding itself after the manner of the 
 country, which gives to the cloak the folds 
 and falling of the Roman toga, it approached 
 nearer to the crucifix of which we have spoken, 
 bowed the head, and seemed to be wrapt in 
 contemplation.
 
 182 GLENLONELY. 
 
 Our allusion to the toga must have left little 
 question as to the sex of the figure ; indeed, in 
 the Colonel's present mood, we doubt whether 
 an angel in petticoats would have won his re- 
 gards. Tlie man on whom he so intently gazed 
 might have passed for fifty with a light ob- 
 server : the high commanding brow stood in 
 bold relief; the locks, which once had clustered 
 on its beautiful outline, had passed away ; and 
 those which time, sickness, and sorrow had 
 spared, were changing from the sunny hues of 
 youth. The eyes, full and deeply set, beamed 
 from their dark retreat, contrasting strangely 
 with the pallid cheek. But for the light and 
 life within the sockets of the eye, one might 
 have deemed the head some marble bust of 
 Roman sage. The arrangement of a cloak — 
 advancing a few steps, and standing in the act 
 of contemplation, — are little in themselves ; but 
 in some there is an innate dignity of manner 
 which gives a grace to all they say or do. 
 
 " It must be Herbert," said the Colonel, half 
 aloud. He was about to spring towards his 
 more than brother, when he checked his inten-
 
 GLENLONELY. 183 
 
 tion, on seeing that the lips were moving, as 
 they breathed a prayer to heaven. Again he 
 doubted the identity — it could not be; and 
 the image of Herbert Lindsay rose to recollec- 
 tion as when they last bade adieu. He saw him 
 radiant with youth — his chestnut locks bright 
 as the hopes which lit his features. This could 
 not be the same ! While these reflections were 
 passing in his mind, the figure once more bowed 
 in reverence, and, with slow and measured steps, 
 approached the entrance to the church. Before 
 the curtain was raised, the arm was extended 
 to the font ; and that commanding brow, which 
 at first caught the Colonel's eye, was signed with 
 the sign of the cross, and the figure disappeared. 
 Colonel Murray had watched in silence. Had 
 he been certain it was Herbert Lindsay who 
 stood before him, he could not have moved. He 
 would have felt it profanation to have obtruded 
 earthly affections on one who communed with 
 his God. Again, the signing with the cross 
 was a Catholic rite, which increased his doubts ; 
 and had these doubts been absent, this simple 
 but impressive action was performed with such
 
 184 GLENLONELY. 
 
 solemnity and grace, that he was rivetted, as 
 Raphael would have been, in looking at the 
 beauty of the living picture. 
 
 He, however, could not remove the first im- 
 pressions, and he determined to decide his 
 doubts by the aid of a clearer light. Without 
 stopping to perform that rite which had, for 
 the first time, won his admiration, he hurried 
 to the door, with the intention of overtaking 
 the object of his awakened curiosity. His speed 
 was needless. On leaving the church, he be- 
 held the same figure, standing with his arms 
 folded on his breast, and evidently charmed by 
 the fidelity of Cato, who guarded the empty 
 bag and double barrel. The poor dog would 
 have been better pleased if his master's prayers 
 had been shorter than they were, and the ap- 
 proach of a stranger added to his anxiety. 
 Though his anger was awakened, he was much 
 too sagacious to leave his post. To use an ex- 
 pressive Devonshire word, "a gurgling" in his 
 throat gave warning of attack, which awaited 
 any who dared to lay hand upon his charge. 
 The nearer the intruder came, the more fre-
 
 GLENLONELY. 185 
 
 quently his eyes glanced towards the church, 
 and the fore-paws, alternately raised and drop- 
 ped, bore witness to his throbbing hopes and 
 tremblinof raoje. The instant his master was 
 seen, his eyes danced \^'ith joy : he ran to meet 
 the steps which advanced too slowly for his 
 wishes, then suddenly returned to his trust, and 
 fiercely threatened the approaching enemy. 
 The stranger smiled, and every doubt was 
 cleared ! Through all the changes that time 
 and woe had worked, the Colonel recognised 
 his exiled friend. A word sufficed to calm his 
 dog. The stranger turned — the voice, the 
 features, step, and bearing, revealed at once 
 his friend of early days. They rushed to each 
 other's arms, and embraced, like brothers ren- 
 dered from the grave of years. 
 
 We doubt whether any human being ever 
 felt twice alike. If a man could be hanojed a 
 dozen times over, and live again to spin his 
 yarn, we doubt whether he would not tell 
 twelve different tales of his launching into eter- 
 nity. We live in the midst — we are a part of — 
 perpetual change and countless combinations.
 
 186 GLENLONELY. 
 
 In the rarest and most common-place events, 
 how can we ever feel twice alike? Fix, for 
 instance, on a spot commanding one of the 
 finest views on earth; choose the same month, 
 hour, all that can bring the remembrance of 
 to-day to that of yesterday ; think of all that 
 must combine within ourselves and nature, of 
 all that is ever changing, and we must allow 
 that it cannot be. Do what we will, there must 
 be comparative degrees ; and thus it is that 
 our feeling may be deemed capricious. Napo- 
 leon wept over the wounds of one poor suffer- 
 ing man, and looked unmoved on the blood of 
 millions. In a mind like his — in the records 
 of such a life — who can say how much com- 
 bined to cause those solitary tears ? Nay, since 
 we illustrate by extremes, who shall say all that 
 combined — how many hidden springs burst on 
 the memory of our departed friend, the kind- 
 hearted elderly lady to whom we formerly al- 
 luded — when we endured a shower-bath of 
 tears ? We doubt the possibility of their recur- 
 rence, though we certainly never allowed the 
 opportunity. Ungrateful as we were, at future
 
 GLENLONELY. 187 
 
 meetings we stood at the freezing point. He 
 is a fool who sits a second night beneath a drip- 
 ping lamp. — Our motives for this little philo- 
 sophic wandering were two-fold : we wished to 
 show that the deep and changing whirlpool of 
 thought and feeling is all but unfathomable, 
 and also we wished that Colonel Murray should 
 be judged aright. Had we said that he was 
 touched to tears, without admitting our fair 
 readers to the recesses of his heart, he might 
 have fallen in their estimation ; as it is, they 
 will readily perceive, that if Herbert Lindsay 
 took to himself the whole merit of the Colonel's 
 emotion, he erred. Had Carlota de Bassecourt 
 never lived and died — had not his heart been 
 tuned to sadness by the spu'it of the dead — he 
 had not wept upon the shoulder of his friend. 
 He perceived the danger of his position, and 
 made a diversion in favour of his game-bag 
 and gun, at the same time introducing the 
 devoted Cato, and pointing out his perfect 
 training. 
 
 Ah ! " said Herbert, " I see, Georgie, you 
 are still the same, subjecting the affections of
 
 188 GLENLONELY. 
 
 all with whom you live, and preserving the 
 freedom of your own." 
 
 This was said with a melancholy smile, and 
 it was easy to trace in the words the supposed 
 contrast between themselves. It was a ran- 
 dom shot, but Colonel Murray felt its force. 
 Returning the caresses of his dog, and grasping 
 the hand of his friend, he parried the remark, 
 and said, " You, and even Cato, can speak to 
 the contrary. I have not that happy indifference 
 you imagine." 
 
 How far this was an evasion Herbert Lind- 
 say did not pause to consider ; but there was a 
 something in the Colonel's tone deeper than 
 anticipated ; he felt that there was a secret, but 
 one of which he had not dreamt. As it were 
 by mutual consent the conversation changed. 
 The Colonel pressed Herbert to return with 
 him to the Albergo di Castello for the night, 
 and, in his anxiety to persuade, forgot that 
 the only three beds were occupied. Herbert 
 Lindsay gently declined the request. The flush 
 of animation passed from his cheek ; and again 
 he stood the same pale and care-worn figure
 
 GLEXLONELY. 189 
 
 which attracted the Colonel's attention in the 
 church. 
 
 "No," he said, "that may not be; you, 
 Georgie, are the only being whose presence 
 would not afflict and irritate. Like the wounded 
 deer, I have flown the covert of my home. I 
 sought the herd of men, but I found no sym- 
 pathy from them. What cares the busy world 
 for the misery of one ? We had no feeling in 
 common. Like the deer, I was repulsed and 
 driven from my fellows, to die in solitude." 
 
 " Herbert," said the Colonel, " my dear 
 Herbert, I forbid such gloomy views, but to- 
 night I will obey; let me, at least, accompany 
 you wherever you are going." And calling to 
 mind the distance of any habitation, he added, 
 with surprise, " And where is that ? " 
 
 " Home," answered Herbert, " for the lonely 
 spot which the wounded seek to die in is their 
 home. You point to the setting sun; I read 
 your fears ; but the crags, the valleys, the olive, 
 and the pine, will guide me like the living. 
 They are my familiars ; and I know them, as a 
 mother would her child, under every change
 
 190 GLENLONELY. 
 
 of feature. The stars will not fail me to-night ; 
 and if they did, I am provided with the means 
 of light ; and my Highland pouch, which I carry 
 ' for auld lang syne,' makes a capital match- 
 box." 
 
 " Well," said the Colonel, " lead the way, 
 and let us march together. Cato will be our 
 advanced, or rear-guard, as we may wish." 
 
 " To-night you promised to obey," replied 
 Herbert, " and a soldier shall not plead the 
 cause of friendship for the breach of promise. 
 No, Georgie, you must return to the travellers, 
 and redeem your pledge. To-morrow, at day- 
 break, I will despatch a guide; to-morrow, I 
 hope to be better prepared to enjoy your com- 
 pany; and to-morrow, as you would say, your 
 quarters shall be ready, and you shall drill me, 
 if you can, to cheerfulness and youth." 
 
 " I will," said the Colonel with warmth; "yes, 
 Herbert, we will both grow young, as we live 
 upon the days of our boyhood. But why 
 should we part ? A warm welcome is the best 
 quarters to a soldier's mind." 
 
 " Remember your promise," said Herbert
 
 GLENLONELY. 191 
 
 Lindsay, smiling ; " I am fit for little but the 
 sleep of death. My strength of feeling rebels 
 against my wishes. It will not travel with my 
 strength of body. The one is passing to decay ; 
 the other lives young, powerful as ever, and 
 seems to gather life, like floAvers above the 
 grave. To-morrow the rebellious shall be pu- 
 nished, if my prayers are heard for the bless- 
 ing of repose ; and you shall see this poor frame 
 rise like a giant refreshed." 
 
 The Colonel urged his request no more. 
 Though the last rays of the sun tinged even the 
 pale cheek of Herbert with a warmer hue, it 
 also showed a hectic tinge, the tell-tale banner 
 of the suffering mind — of fell disease, which 
 lurks within the body. With the hope of meet- 
 ing on the following day, they parted for the 
 night. 
 
 We began the chapter, by alluding to the 
 magic charm contained in the number 3 : if, 
 in confirmation of the fact, we mentioned the 
 three united kingdoms of England, Scotland, 
 and Ireland — \t is just possible that evil- 
 disposed persons may have doubted our faith
 
 192 GLENLONELY. 
 
 on the subject. To confess the honest truth, 
 we fear there was a wavering, a shadow of 
 scepticism in our hearts ; if such there were, it 
 is past ; our behef is firm, clear, and unalter- 
 able. Our third attempt has succeeded — the 
 friends have met! 
 
 But, in direct opposition to our intention 
 and determination, this has been effected only 
 by dividing the sixth chapter into 3. Could 
 Cocker demand more perfect proof?
 
 GLEXLONELY. 193 
 
 CHAP. VII. 
 
 THE SKELETON GIANT. 
 
 Like tliLinder bolts the rocks are hurl'd 
 
 Against the rebel race ; 
 Convulsions shake the reeling world, 
 
 And move its trembling base. 
 
 Earth gasps for breath, her caverns yawn. 
 
 As falls each vanquish'd son ; 
 The gods, triumphant, laugh with scorn : 
 
 The victory is won ! 
 
 JVars of the Gods, 
 
 Colonel Murray reached the Albergo di 
 Castello in good time for the appointed supper. 
 On his way thither he had ample opportunity 
 of reviewing the feehngs of the day ; and, 
 sincerely anxious as he had been to accompany 
 Herbert Lindsay, he was not sorry for the 
 opportunity of rallying his forces. Man with 
 his fellow-man is so trained to play the hypo- 
 crite, that he always feels a something like 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 194 GLENLONELY. 
 
 shame if his better feelings shine through the 
 mask of habit, or if, in the language of the 
 world, he betrays the shadow of weakness. 
 
 Should the reader ever sin after this fashion, 
 we can tell him that the best remedy in the 
 world is the necessity of playing the agreeable 
 to those we neither know nor care about. To 
 make the cure effectual, the strangers must be 
 foreigners, since good breeding enjoins us to 
 speak their language instead of our own, if we 
 can ; and if we cannot do this perfectly, so much 
 the better. The Colonel was a better Spanish 
 than Italian scholar, and, consequently, his 
 attention was more completely engaged in 
 keeping up the conversation. His companions 
 were men of intelligence, and it was late before 
 any of the party thought of retiring to rest. 
 At length their discourse was interrupted by 
 the return of the Colonel's messenger. 
 
 '•Here's your letter, Signor," said Luigi, 
 extending his hand with the courage of a 
 schoolboy who expects a salutation from his 
 master's cane. 
 
 '' How is this?" asked the Colonel, affecting
 
 GLEXLOXELY. 195 
 
 surprise, and making no advances to receive 
 the proffered gift. " My letter, do you say, 
 Luigi?" 
 
 " Yes, Signor ; the lord of the castle had 
 taken one of his wild flights, and no one could 
 say at what hour he would return." 
 
 " But why not remain until he did return ? " 
 asked the Colonel. 
 
 Luigi hesitated, and muttered some Italian 
 proverb about evil birds which fly by night, 
 and adding more audibly, " Because I thought 
 you insisted on an answer to-night ; and — 
 and " 
 
 " And," said the Colonel, " that is why you 
 have not brought one, and why, to speak truth, 
 you would be rather looking on the remains of 
 our supper-table, than sleeping beneath the 
 roof of Castel a Mare." 
 
 " Assuredly," said Luigi ; " il Signor is 
 always right; and it is a pleasure to wish 
 him the best good night, and the happiest of 
 dreams." 
 
 It was impossible to resist this well-turned 
 compliment, dressed as it was in the magic of 
 K 2
 
 196 GLENLONELY. 
 
 the lingua Tuscana, The Colonel extended 
 his hand for the useless letter, and told Luigi 
 to clear the table and bring the lamps for bed, 
 — the same in form as those which, some two 
 thousand years ago, lit the Pompeians to their 
 cabin-like cribs in the wall ! 
 
 The promised guide arrived before the 
 Colonel had concluded the toilet to which our 
 readers have been admitted at the commence- 
 ment of our tale. The philosophical wander- 
 ings which had followed the meeting of yester- 
 day were as good as a walk before breakfast. 
 The Colonel descended with an excellent 
 appetite ; and the guide was substantially 
 refreshed ere the travellers had finished 
 their morning repast. All who have visited 
 the Continent — and who has not ? — must 
 know that the word "breakfast" is a meagre 
 definition of the meal where wine is the sub- 
 stitute for tea, and hot meat for toast. The 
 French, who have the art of powerfully de- 
 fining petty differences, express it admirably 
 by "a la fourchette" We, who contend that 
 every child ought to speak its mother tongue.
 
 GLENLONELY. 197 
 
 were on the point of saying, " before they had 
 forked their breakfast ; " but some floating 
 recollections of converting mine into thine, 
 expressed by the word " fork," made us 
 hesitate. We must leave it to the reader to 
 say whether we may or may not beat the 
 French by merely changing one word. If, as 
 we fear, the word has been employed to denote 
 extraction from the pocket of one man by the 
 hand of another, there is a something so 
 original in the comparison of the protruded 
 fingers to our two-pronged fork — the seizure of 
 that by which they live is so happily imaged — 
 that we would on no account rob those talented 
 exclusives, our English pickpockets. When the 
 knives and forks had ceased, the Colonel seized 
 the hands of his companions, and avoided the 
 continental adieu, — a kindness at all times re- 
 volting to our English notions, more especially 
 when the moustaches are anointed with fat and 
 oil. The guide undertook to carry the knap- 
 sack; the Colonel took his gun, and gave the 
 word in Italian ; Cato echoed the command in 
 K 3
 
 198 GLENLONELY. 
 
 liis language, and away they marched for the 
 Exile's home. 
 
 It is lucky that every thing has a name ; it 
 is the stepping-stone of talk ; there is no getting 
 on without it, whether we want a slice of plum- 
 pudding or to know our man. 
 
 " What is your name?" inquired the Colonel, 
 as soon as they had fairly started. 
 
 " Giovannino, signor, at your service," re- 
 plied the guide, a youth of some sixteen years, 
 active as a chamois, and apparently intelli- 
 gent. 
 
 " Well, Giovannino," said the Colonel, " you 
 have not the fears of Luigi ?" 
 
 " Why should I?" asked Giovannino in return, 
 and indulged in a hearty laugh at the expense 
 of the terrified messenger; " not I, signor, 
 and why should I ? " he repeated. 
 
 This mode of answering a question by asking 
 another is generally a foil ; we, who are allowed 
 to peep behind the curtain, can readily explain 
 the wherefore by informing the reader, that 
 Giovannino had maliciously played the magi- 
 cian's imp, and worked upon the ignorance and
 
 GLENLOXELY. 199 
 
 superstition of Luigi. As the Colonel was in 
 the dark, and unwilling to suggest any reasons 
 why he should be alarmed, he pleaded that con- 
 venient confession, " Don't know." 
 
 " Not know !" asked Giovannino in a graver 
 tone : " I thought my master was your friend. 
 He, whose kindness saved my father's life and 
 reared the helpless, would not injure the son 
 who can now serve him in return. The wildest 
 and weakest in nature are wiser than Luigi : 
 the birds pick the crumbs from his table, and 
 the hare and the hawk will feed from his hand. 
 May the blessed Virgin shield his life !" And 
 with these words the guide hurried three crosses 
 into one, as he passed a nook in the rock which 
 sheltered a small image of the Virgin Mary and 
 the infant Christ. 
 
 Of all the pleasures on earth, which is so pure 
 and great as to hear the praises of those we 
 love ? It is the tribute we would pay in person, 
 but delicacy forbids ; it is the homage we would 
 offer through the ears of others, but we fear 
 they would deem us blind, or heed not the value 
 of the gem we prize. Giovannino was too young 
 K 4
 
 200 GLENLONELY. 
 
 and fervent in his gratitude to nurse such doubts: 
 he spoke from the heart, and expected the 
 Colonel to feel with his feelings : for once he 
 was not mistaken. 
 
 The farther they advanced, the more apparent 
 was the necessity of a guide : their path was the 
 antipodes of " wilds immeasurably spread : *' 
 rugged and abrupt, fancy could not picture 
 the change from one angle to another. At one 
 time they tracked the bed of a torrent; at an- 
 other, skirted some precipice, at the foot of which 
 its gathered waters roared. The valley of eternal 
 shadow; the mountain with its river and fan- 
 tastic pines ; the ruins of the avalanche, with 
 here and there some fairy tufts of green which 
 seemed too bright for mortal feet, each in their 
 turn were passed. In one respect it did resemble 
 Goldsmith's masterly description. There was ever 
 some one over towering point, which seemed to 
 retreat as the travellers approached ; it brooked 
 no rival near, and mocked at measurement. 
 The way, though difficult, did not appear " to 
 lengthen as they went ; " they had found a theme 
 equally grateful to both, the beneficence and
 
 GLEXLONELY. 201 
 
 charities of Herbert Lindsay, his pursuits, his 
 studies, and relaxations ; each and all had their 
 interest. When the Colonel heard how widely 
 his goodness extended, and thought of the value 
 of such a life, he could not refrain from alluding 
 to the danger he must have incurred last night, 
 and expressed his wonder at his safe arrival at 
 the castle. 
 
 Giovannino did not appear to have entertained 
 the same fears. " It is nothing, signer, for our 
 noble Lord : he has peopled the woods, the val- 
 leys, crags, and waterfalls ; he walks like the 
 king of an invisible race; they obey his call, and 
 keep his steps from erring. Wild as our path 
 has been, each turn is noted like the sailor's 
 chart; 'tis here the fairy king has raised his 
 throne ; in yonder cavern, when the moon is 
 bright, he banquets by the ray the crystals 
 steal from heaven. This turf, which now we 
 tread, is where his subjects dance their magic 
 ring. Beyond the cataract we passed, and where 
 the waters rest in deep repose, the river god has 
 fixed his home, and nymphs " 
 
 " Halt,f cried the Colonel, seeing they had 
 K 5
 
 20*2 GLEXLOKELY. 
 
 lost all vestige of a track ; " where are you 
 wandering with your nymphs and fairies ? One 
 ■\vould think you lived with one of your old 
 Italian poets instead of a brother Englishman. 
 Do you see w^e have descended once more to the 
 trackless pebbles of a torrent course? How shall 
 we ever scale these blackened slippery rocks 
 which hem us in ? And to my eyes, Giovannino, 
 this looks more like the entrance to the shades 
 belov/ than any of your fairy halls." 
 
 But Giovannino was right; in adopting the 
 wild fancies of his lord, he had not forgotten 
 the path which they served to illustrate. Edu- 
 cation had removed the ignorance on which the 
 power of priesthood is based ; he had not the 
 low superstitions of his class, but abounded in 
 the poetic spirit, which, in Italy, grows wild ; his 
 mind seized upon the visions of Herbert Lindsay, 
 and turned them to good account ; like his lord, 
 he knew nature by heart. 
 
 " Wait a little, my signer, and you will see," 
 said Giovannino, still leading the way with the 
 confidence of one who knew he was right. 
 
 The pass which they had entered became less
 
 GLENLONELY. 2^93 
 
 and less promising ; every turn seemed to give 
 one hundred feet in height, and lessen the width 
 of the channel they trod ; in a few yards more, 
 the rushing waters all but occupied the narrowed 
 space ; the dripping weeds supplied the sullen 
 splashing of a thunder storm ; and, on looking 
 up, the arching rocks seemed as if about to close 
 like a grave upon the living. " Wait a little," 
 again repeated Giovannino, as he saw the Co- 
 lonel obliged to do so, and doubting where to 
 put his foot to keep himself clear of the stream ; 
 " there, signor, and here, and there, and now 
 here, and there again," he repeated, as he 
 perched upon bits of rock, which, to the inex- 
 perienced, looked black and glossy as the waters 
 themselves. The Colonel made no remark ; he 
 had threaded the passes in Spain, beset by a 
 thousand dangers ; here he anticipated none : 
 there could be no treachery, no enemy to dread ; 
 it was not fear that he felt, but the human' voice 
 was in discord with the scene ; he was awed to 
 silence ; nature, stern, terrific, and wonderful, 
 was telling of creation ; of that Hand by which 
 the rocks were rent in twain, and mountains 
 K 6
 
 204 GLENLONELY. 
 
 lifted from the bottom of the sea. Even Gio- 
 vannino, used as he was to the pass, ceased to 
 play the cicerone, and appeared to feel with the 
 Colonel that words would be misplaced ; dark- 
 ness and mystery spoke for themselves. What- 
 ever might have been the thoughts such language 
 inspired, they were presently diverted by rays 
 of light which fell on one side of the opening 
 chasm ; the drops which gathered on the weed 
 stole the colours from the rainbow, and fell like 
 diamonds in the stream. On proceeding a little 
 further they suddenly emerged, and came upon 
 an opening which formed an irregular circle of 
 some two hundred feet in diameter ; such, how- 
 ever, was the height of the perpendicular rocks, 
 that the Colonel felt as though he were stand- 
 ing at the bottom of some gigantic shaft. As 
 he raised his eyes and saw the blue sky, he 
 drank deeply of the breath of heaven, as newly 
 born from the mountain womb. 
 
 Giovannino's eyes regained their laughing 
 light, as he said, " Behold, signer, we stand in 
 the " Devil's Caldron ! " 
 
 " The devil we do !" said the Colonel, as he
 
 GLENLONELY. 205 
 
 surveyed their position, and got clear of the 
 river which crossed the centre. " And what 
 should we do if the caldron filled, and the 
 waters boiled ? " 
 
 " Do !" replied Giovannino ; " do a purga- 
 tory for future poets : we should be purged by 
 water instead of fire. I should think," he 
 archly added, as he thought of his master's ex- 
 perimental models, " the devil must have learnt 
 ere this the power of steam." 
 
 The Colonel could not refrain from a smile 
 at the playful fancy of a modern Papist; " March 
 of intellect ! " he muttered to himself; and, 
 pointing to the rocks which bristled like a host 
 of spears, " I think, Giovannino, we should 
 soon be done to rags ; but having no wish to 
 make the experiment, I should like to know 
 how we are to get out. Your mountain lakes 
 are apt to lie in ambush, and burst like a water 
 spout." 
 
 " There is no danger to-day," said Giovan- 
 nino ; " and behold, signor, don't you see our 
 path?'' 
 
 Colonel Murray possessed that qualification
 
 '206 GLENLONELY. 
 
 which they say is essential to a General : he had 
 a good eye for escape, when necessary. Again 
 he glanced round the sides of the caldron, 
 beginning with the chasm by which they had 
 entered, and there he finished, but could detect 
 no possible egress. The only other opening 
 was a dark cavern, which yawned, like a lion's 
 mouth, with granite teeth, and poured forth the 
 river we have mentioned. 
 
 " I see but yonder cavern," answered the 
 Colonel, " and that appears but a forlorn hope." 
 
 " Not quite, my signor," said Giovannino : 
 " we shall escape through the giant's ribs, the 
 skeleton of one who warred with Heaven, and 
 was crushed to death beneath the falling mass." 
 
 There was no mistaking the allusion ; though 
 the Colonel was no deep classic, the heathen 
 fables were much too amusing to be forgotten. 
 Besides, war, whether of Titans, giants, demi- 
 gods, or men, was quite in his way : in Italy, 
 sculpture and painting make them familiar to 
 all, even the uneducated. 
 
 The rocks which formed the entrance to the 
 cavern might well be likened to the ribs of
 
 GLENLONELY. 207 
 
 some mountain whale or fabled giant. Geolo- 
 gist or not, there can be few who have never 
 remarked such curved and fantastic structure. 
 In this case, the image was unusually striking. 
 Earth, in her convulsive throes, seemed to have 
 gasped for breath, and rent the mountain from 
 its centre : again it closed ; the rocky strata, 
 curved in some former agony, met with the 
 shock of falling worlds. The arch, once perfect, 
 was splintered and displaced, and the crum- 
 bling key- stone was supplied by the reunion of 
 the mass above. As the cavern was approached, 
 each succeeding stratum was seen in perspective ; 
 their span at first increasing and afterwards 
 diminishing, till the eye could perceive no fur- 
 ther. As the light fell upon the ribs (for the 
 blind would have felt Giovannino's image of the 
 skeleton), they appeared to have been bleached 
 by the waters, which, at times, had nearly 
 choked the passage. This, added to the dark- 
 ness between each division, showed the regularity 
 of curve which each retained. A poet would 
 have imaged some earth-born monster warring
 
 *208 GLENLONELX. 
 
 against the gods above, and crushed by the 
 mountain falling on his chest. 
 
 Colonel Murray, lucky man, was no poet; 
 and, despite his bumps of pugnacity, he did 
 not quite conjure up such extremities of war- 
 fare. He certainly was struck by the similitude, 
 but beyond this his brains were busied in de- 
 vising how they were to escape through the 
 jaws of dt^ath. 
 
 There needed little of poetical fancy for this 
 idea ; for, above the cavern, there was one 
 bold and projecting arch, larger and less injured 
 than those below, which would have made a 
 fittinfy jaw for such a carcass. 
 
 " I see," said the Colonel, who was some- 
 what tired of the sublime, " that your giant's 
 head is gone, and I think it time that we should 
 follow." 
 
 " By the body of Bacchus ! I hope we shan't," 
 exclaimed Giovannino; "for here the monster 
 fell, and the faithless earth sank with the weight 
 of his head, while his limbs were buried by 
 the angry gods. What else, my signor, could
 
 GLENLONELY. 209 
 
 have formed the * Devil's Caldron,* as our 
 peasants term it ? " 
 
 The Colonel, with all his science in mining, 
 counter-mining, explosion, and projectiles, did 
 not immediately see the drift of Giovannino's 
 question. His fire had been more effective 
 with a quicker return ; still, however, it told, 
 when he said, **' Yes, yes, I see now; I forgot 
 for the moment, that the hotter the climate the 
 thicker the skull. No wonder your giant's 
 head was harder than the rocks, and sank like 
 a Dardanelle shot through a seventy-four." 
 
 The simile was Greek, or rather Turkish, to 
 Giovannino ; but he understood that his pet 
 giant was quizzed at the expense of his coun- 
 try. Ridicule is no argument, but often more 
 powerful. Having no answer at hand, he seemed 
 willing to escape. " Well, Signor," he said, 
 " we will proceed, if you please." 
 
 The Colonel nodded assent, and looked with 
 no slight curiosity to the proceedings of his 
 guide. Giovannino, diverging from the river, 
 which commanded the best view of the giant's 
 interior, made to the apparently solid rock,
 
 210 GLENLONELY. 
 
 some fifty yards from the mouth of the cavern. 
 Here a detached fragment, chipped, we suppose, 
 by some bump of the falling skull, concealed a 
 hole comfortably sized for a mastiff's door-way, 
 but somewhat inconvenient for man, who is or- 
 dered to walk erect. Such, however, was the 
 only egress, unless the travellers waded the 
 waters, which occupied the giant's thorax, or 
 wind-pipe, as Giovannino might prefer. 
 
 " This way," said Giovannino ; and he shot 
 like a pole-cat into its hole. In an instant he 
 was out of sight, leaving the Colonel no time 
 for question, or doubt, as to the unpromising 
 approach. It is always wise to bow to circum- 
 stances, especially when they may lead to some- 
 thing better. Colonel Murray, therefore, re- 
 solved to follow ; and having called to mind the 
 picture in his family Bible, where Nebuchad- 
 nezzar is in the act of grazing, he did his best 
 to imitate the monarch's position, and thus won 
 his way, though not without a scratch or two, 
 in person, gun, and unmentionables. 
 
 If Giovannino "had been nettled at the Colo- 
 nel's jest, he was soon revenged, and it was
 
 GLEXLOXELY. 211 
 
 now his tu t o laugh. The sudden transition 
 fi'om hght to darkness prevented the Colonel 
 from seeing. In such cases, imagination makes 
 us fancy we feel our approach to solidity, before 
 we actually touch it ; and thus influenced, the 
 Colonel proceeded with his head somewhat 
 lower than his shoulders, fearing every moment 
 to knock his brains against the jagged roof. 
 
 The canine position is ill-suited for human 
 talk; but the surliest of dogs never growled 
 more cordially than Colonel Murray, and he 
 only wished for the power of sending Giovan- 
 nino to the black hole for a week. These wishes 
 were intercepted by a smothered laugh. 
 
 " Ah, my signor," said a voice behind him, 
 " you crawl so well, I should never have known 
 you had passed me, had you not muttered to 
 the stones. But why not stand up ? there is 
 plenty of height after you enter." And with 
 these words Giovannino came up to the Colo- 
 nel, whose vision was adapting itself to the 
 doubtful light. When he once more stood up, 
 like a man, he felt inclined to vent his anger 
 upon Giovannino; but his natural good humour
 
 212 GLENLONELY. 
 
 could not help laughing at the absurdity of his 
 needless penance ; and he contented himself 
 with explaining, that a guide should not only 
 lead, but keep in the way. 
 
 " Without doubt," said Giovannino ; " have 
 no fear, I am ever at your side, when the path 
 will carry double;" — and to prove his words he 
 took the Colonel by the hand. A few steps 
 brought them to the edge of the river. Having 
 passed, as a surgeon would say of a ball, between 
 the third and fourth rib, into the heart of the 
 cavern, their progress was easy; they had 
 only to thread the skeleton, and keep to a track 
 some two or three feet above the water. 
 
 After advancing some way in the bowels of 
 the earth, the arching rocks gradually con- 
 tracted until they suddenly ceased. Once more 
 the Colonel enjoyed the luxury of breathing 
 freely ; and if, upon his entrance, he recurred 
 to the punishment of the Hebrew king, it 
 may be easily imagined, that the same series of 
 illustrations presented the joy of Jonas, when 
 he escaped from the belly of the whale. 
 
 The scenery assumed a different feature:
 
 GLENLONELY. 213 
 
 though the face of the rock from which they had 
 emerged was as precipitous on this side as on the 
 other, there was less of stern and overwhelming 
 grandeur. There was plenty of elbow-room, 
 right and left; there were shelving hills, covered 
 with turf of brightest green, soft as velvet, and 
 shorn by the grazing flocks. The Colonel 
 feasted his eyes, and thought he had never 
 looked upon a green so beautiful and soothing, 
 thous^h doubtless this feelinor arose from the re- 
 lief it afforded ; and more, perhaps, from the 
 countless fragments of white rock, which seemed 
 to have pierced, without deranging the turf; 
 to have sprung, like the snow-drop or lily, as 
 the produce befitting the regions around. It 
 was aptly termed, " The Valley of Rocks." 
 Immediately before them was a winding river, 
 which, judging from its idle and endless curves, 
 seemed determined to linger, as long as might 
 be, in a spot so calm and lovely. Where the 
 Colonel and his guide were yet proceeding, its 
 course was confined between two ridges of 
 smooth rock, in which the waters made trial of 
 their strength, and were prepared for the pass
 
 214 GLENLONELY. 
 
 they were about to force. When they had ar- 
 rived at the extreme point of these ridges, Gio- 
 vannino directed the Colonel's attention to the 
 course they had pursued, and said, " There, at 
 least, my signor, are the thigh and shin bones 
 of my giant." 
 
 " Yes," answered the Colonel, who was in- 
 stantly struck with the skeleton form of the 
 whitened ridges ; " and this proves the truth of 
 my remark, that your giant's heels were higher 
 than his head." " True, signor," said Gio- 
 vannino, laughing ; "no wonder either, seeing 
 how he is always drinking." 
 
 This innocent sort of topsy-turvy joke put 
 Giovanni no into high spirits. He had had his 
 revenge, dear to Italians, and others too, and 
 retorted joke for joke. It were hard to say 
 who had the best of it : w^e, who are too learned 
 to be merry and wise, consider that victory ho- 
 vered between the doubtful decision of " heads 
 or tails." 
 
 The Colonel and Giovannino were both wise 
 in their way, and, each being pleased with him- 
 self, continued their journey most agreeably.
 
 GLENLOXELY. 215 
 
 The Valley of Rocks extended for upwards of a 
 mile, when the ascent became more steep. The 
 mountains assumed the mastery; the velvet turf 
 was seen only in patches : and, presently, it dis- 
 appeared. 
 
 While they were following the windings of 
 the river, the Colonel had ample time to think 
 over the scenes they had passed, and admire 
 the majestic walls of granite, between which, it 
 seemed, they were about to travel. This can- 
 not, he thought, be the route which Lindsay 
 pursifed the night before ; and he questioned 
 his guide as to the fact. 
 
 " To speak the truth," said Giovannino, '• my 
 signor is right. There is a path on the heights, 
 but this is the grandest way, and due to your 
 excellency's rank. We rarely have visitors to 
 whom I can show the honours, and " 
 
 " And so," said the Colonel, taking the words 
 from his mouth, and looking down on his tat- 
 tered garments, " you evince your homage by 
 making me go on my knees, and work my way 
 like a mole." 
 
 Giovannino put on his most penitent look,
 
 216 GLENLOXELY. 
 
 and swore by a string of saints, that it was out 
 of respect to his excellency's honour. And he 
 spoke the truth. Proud of his country's beau- 
 ties, which his lord would admire for hours to- 
 gether, he was actuated by the same motives of 
 pride and respect which inspire the porter of 
 some old and rarely visited baronial hall. Be 
 it wet or dry, hot or cold, if the visitor be 
 deemed worthy, he must wait till the rusty 
 locks, bohs, and bars are removed from the 
 great gates, rather than be suffered to enter at 
 once by the open wicket. The motive vms the 
 same, but the openings were reversed. This 
 the Colonel felt, and begged for the future to 
 be welcomed with less of such infernal state 
 magnificence. 
 
 Here we must rest awhile, and allow the 
 Colonel and Giovannino to recruit their 
 strength. 
 
 As yet Colonel Murray had incurred no immi- 
 nent peril; but there was a mysterious and awful, 
 if not appalling grandeur, in the scenes he had 
 passed, which drew forth and rivetted his feel- 
 ino;s. He was glad to rest, and we who, un-
 
 GLENLONELY. 217 
 
 known and invisible, have trodden widi his 
 steps, are glad to relax. "VMiile the Colonel 
 stretches his limbs on a mossy couch, and 
 surveys the contents of Giovannino's wallet, we 
 will mount our Arab grey, and gallop for an 
 appetite, to recruit the exhaustion of sublimity. 
 As Commander Ross said, " What a pity we 
 cannot live without eating !" 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 218 GLENLONELV. 
 
 CHAP. VIII. 
 
 THE MOUNTAIN FLOOD. 
 
 They both are terrible 
 
 But, in comparison, the rage of fire 
 
 Is merciful : its cloven tongues are heard, 
 
 Its wings of light and breath of smoke proclaim 
 
 The dread approach ; but, when the waters burst 
 
 Their boundary, the fell destroyer mocks 
 
 The racer's speed, and, ere the warning's heard, 
 
 Cities are swept away — all, all is lost ! 
 
 A Bird. 
 
 A CAPTIOUS and ill-tempered critic might sug- 
 gest tliat, after an Italian breakfast, the Co- 
 lonel needed no refreshment on his march. To 
 the best of our recollection, we have only re- 
 lated his manoeuvre to escape the salutation of 
 his anointed companions. What share he bore 
 in the action is untold : as well as the immea-
 
 GLENLONELY. 219 
 
 surable distance he had travelled. If this will 
 not appease the critic, we must request him to 
 live upon mountain air during a walk of some 
 six or eight hours ; and, if hunger do not tame 
 the beast to our way of thinking by two p. m., 
 we know nothing about the matter. 
 
 But we had a weiglitier reason than this for 
 the Colonel's halt — a motive which would weigh 
 down all the critics in this world, or that below: 
 we had that reason which keeps the very world 
 in motion — self. It suited our convenience : 
 we were weary, if he were not. We foresaw 
 approaching trials, of which neither Giovannino 
 nor the Colonel dreamed ; and we wished, if 
 possible, not to break down on the way. Thanks 
 to our Arab, and dinner, we hope to avoid this 
 accident. 
 
 " Well," said the Colonel, "let us move on 
 at our ease : you say we have no more giants to 
 win our way through ? " 
 
 " None, Signor," said Giovannino : " his 
 Holiness the Pope might drive along our pre- 
 sent road." 
 
 " Indeed I " answered the Colonel, " then I 
 L 2
 
 220 GLENLONELY. 
 
 hope it is the right one ; for St. Peter himself 
 could not turn in it." 
 
 " Except by a miracle," said Giovannino, 
 with a grave face, and a smile in the corner of 
 his mouth. " You forget that a good Catholic 
 can always back out of a scrape." 
 
 " And a heretic too," said the Colonel, " so 
 long as he keeps on his legs, which, I trust, will 
 be my mode of conveyance in the high roads 
 of a country like this." 
 
 The road was certainly not bad, though 
 somewhat questionable for a carriage. It fol- 
 lowed the windings of the river, and had occa- 
 sionally served for its bed. In one part it was 
 formed of hard compact sand, left, probably, by 
 the floods of melted snow ; in another, it passed 
 over rocks. Macadamised after Nature's fashion, 
 and worn smooth by the passage of mountain 
 pebbles. On the opposite side, the waters 
 bathed the feet of rocky heights ; which, on the 
 right and left, were all but perpendicular. 
 
 It often, too often, occurs that, when we come 
 upon scenery worthy of intense and undivided 
 attention, we can give little, if any. The
 
 GLEXLONELY. 221 
 
 weaker are exhausted, soul and body, before the 
 point of view is attained : the stronger are en- 
 gaged in self-preservation. How can a man 
 extend his thoughts beyond his toes, when one 
 false step may whirl him headlong to eternity ? 
 Here, however, the Colonel found a safe foot- 
 ing, and was at liberty to enjoy, to the fullest, 
 the ever-changing beauties of the pass. 
 
 The day was peculiarly calm and bright : 
 the winds were hushed ; and the cloudless sky 
 appeared so still, that it seemed as if the sun 
 were fixed, or the earth at rest. The waters alone 
 disturbed the sense of deep repose: they pursued 
 their course in wayward mood ; now clear and 
 peaceful as the eye of innocence; now roused 
 to anger by opposing blocks, which stood, like 
 watch-towers, in the silvered stream. 
 
 The Colonel had ceased to chat with Gio- 
 vannino : he was amply amused with building 
 castles in the air, and more substantially than 
 most — there was no want of material here. He 
 had only to perfect the ruined battlements on 
 high, plant a few cannon, and the picture was 
 complete. Again, his fancy turned to holier 
 L 3
 
 222 GLENLONELY. 
 
 works, and built cathedrals with a churchman's 
 zeal. The pinnacles and spires were there ; 
 the fret-work of the Gothic arch : remove the 
 shrubs which blossomed on the roof, or climbed 
 profanely on the walls, and again the image 
 was complete. Colonel Murray's mind was 
 decidedly anti-poetical : but here Imagination 
 could not help itself — Nature put it into lead- 
 ing strings. An alderman would have turned 
 from turtle-soup, and improved on the towers 
 of London and Westminster Abbey. 
 
 Giovannino had been too well tutored to 
 allow of his interrupting the Colonel's medita- 
 tions. It is difficult to say how long these might 
 have continued ; or how far Palladio and Wren 
 might have been outrivalled, but for a sudden 
 and unlooked-for interruption. 
 
 The travellers had continued to ascend, while 
 the river descended with a rapidity inversely 
 proportioned to their progress. It is only in 
 Ireland that w^aterruns uphill; and even there 
 it finds its level — when it can. The ascent 
 which they were now pursuing was so gradual, 
 that the lazy stream glided in harmony with the 
 m.onastic walls on which the Colonel's niind w^
 
 GLENLONELY. 2*23 
 
 at work. A bold projecting angle, some dis- 
 tance in advance, served as a pier, and gave 
 the waters a reprieve from tumult and passion. 
 The Colonel, relieved from the toil of ascend- 
 ing, felt that he moved without an effort, and 
 drank of the holy calm which seemed to dwell 
 with all things. 
 
 He had stopped to gather some flowers, that 
 grew upon the bank, and was attracted by the 
 colours of a splendid trout, which, like himself, 
 appeared to have fed most satisfactorily, and 
 was now indolently alive to the luxury of living. 
 While gazing on its beauty, and thinking how 
 happily a monk might have fasted on such a 
 prize, a low rumbling noise broke upon his 
 ear, like distant thunder. Another moment, it 
 seemed like the crash of mountains burst by 
 volcanic fire : then a pause ; till the answering 
 echoes passed it like a watchword of warning. 
 
 "What's that?" asked the Colonel, turning 
 quickly to his guide ; but Giovannino appeared 
 too much astounded and perplexed to reply. 
 
 " What 's that ? " he repeated ; " thunder ?" 
 
 "No, Signor.'* 
 
 L 4
 
 224 GLENLONELY. 
 
 "Earthquake?" 
 
 " It cannot be," said Giovannino, looking at 
 the bright blue sky ; " it is not possible." 
 
 Before these hasty words were spoken, the 
 shock was renewed with redoubled power, and, 
 borne by the echoing mountains, it approached 
 in one continued and terrific peal. 
 
 " Speak, Giovannino," said the Colonel, in a 
 sterner tone ; " what can it be?" 
 
 Giovannino made no answer. Pale, and 
 fixed in the attitude of listening — his mouth 
 open, and yet not seeming to breathe — his 
 hand raised, and one finger extended, as if 
 commanding silence, that he might catch the 
 truth — he was not long in divining the cause. 
 
 " Holy Virgin !" he cried, crossing himself at 
 the same time ; " the lake ! the lake ! " 
 
 Having expressed his fears, he hurried to the 
 projecting angle to ascertain whether they were 
 founded in truth. The Colonel followed. 
 Though self-possessed, he knew not how to 
 act : there was no mistaking Giovannino's 
 sense of danger. The voice of a thousand 
 thunders proclaimed some dread convulsion ;
 
 GLENLOXELY. 225 
 
 yet all was undefined, and doubly awful from 
 its dark and hidden mystery. 
 
 On passing the angle alluded to, the river 
 might be traced until lost among the high and 
 broken cracfs which fed its source. The dis- 
 tance was considerable : but the fall was ?o 
 rapid and broken, that, wherever the channel 
 was narrowed by the approaching cliflPs, it leapt 
 the barriers in one bold and dark cascade. At 
 rather more than half way between the farthest 
 point of view and the spot where the travellers 
 stood, the river was traversed by one of those 
 wild unearthly bridges which puzzle posterity. 
 As usual, in all ages and countries, the work 
 was ascribed to the devil, who, determined to 
 walk the earth, and lead others in his steps. 
 has, from time to time, turned architect, and 
 thrown arches where the boldest of men had 
 not dared to fix a centre. By some omission 
 or whim in the sponsors, the work was known 
 as the " Black Bridge," instead of bearing, as 
 is usual, the builder's name. There were two 
 arches, and the centre pier was worthy of his 
 Satanic majesty. It consisted of a mass of 
 L o
 
 226 GLENLONELY* 
 
 blackened rock, which rose amidst the foam 
 like a monster from the deep, yet sufficiently 
 like the human form to suggest the idea that 
 the devil had borrowed from his palace in hell, 
 and placed a huge African Caryatis to favour 
 his progress on earth. From either end of this 
 bridge was a zig-zag path which led to the 
 heights above, and a third also leading from 
 the bridge to the road, which here was abruptly 
 terminated. 
 
 The Colonel was not long in overtaking 
 Giovannino ; and, obtaining a view of the 
 object which we have attempted to sketch, by 
 the time he stood by his side, the poor boy had 
 attained a full perception of the peril he fore- 
 boded. Taking a small crucifix from his 
 bosom, he kissed the image of Christ; and, 
 turning to the Colonel, said, in a tone of calm 
 despair, " May the Saviour save us ! We must 
 die ; the lake has burst ! We shall be swept 
 away like chaff before the wind, and perish in 
 the roaring flood ! " 
 
 " Is there no escape," asked the Colonel, 
 as he turned from the rocks, which frowned
 
 GLENLONELY. 2*27 
 
 defiance; " no path from the road to the 
 bridge?" 
 
 "There is," said Giovannino ; "but it's too 
 late: the speed of a hawk would not save us." 
 
 " Let us try," said the Colonel, with the 
 energy of one who saw that hope depended on 
 decision. 
 
 Giovannino was roused to action, and obeyed 
 the summons. Their efforts were those of men ; 
 but the floods were hurrying with the whirl- 
 wind's wing. Curved like one enormous wave 
 about to break, but never breaking, the swollen 
 waters rushed like a wedge, uprooting the 
 foundations of the rocks, and tearing huge 
 masses from their sides. Mass upon mass, rent 
 and loosened by returning centuries of frost, 
 and now deprived of their base, fell in the 
 torrent like an avalanche of stone. A dark 
 dense cloud rose from the falling ruins, — a 
 moving column, which marked the destroyer's 
 path, and shrouded the screaming eagle which 
 strove to soar above. 
 
 Every instant lessened the Colonel's hope a 
 he watched the approaching column, and mea- 
 L 6
 
 228 GLENLONELY. 
 
 sured with his eye the dwindling space between 
 that and the bridge. Still he persevered : the 
 fantastic figure of the pier became more dis- 
 tinct : it looked like a demon risen to mock 
 the agony of man, and enjoy the convulsions of 
 nature. 
 
 " It can't be done," said the Colonel, coming 
 to a dead halt, and seeing the impossibility of 
 gaining the bridge before the flood. " We must 
 climb the rocks, or die !" 
 
 Giovannino saw the same alternative ; and, 
 supported by the Colonel's self-possession, he 
 glanced to every spot which could give the 
 shadow of success. 
 
 Cato, with the sagacity of his race, watched 
 their endeavours, and read their wishes. Now 
 advancing, now returning on their footsteps, he 
 made unceasing trials to find a landing-place. 
 The Colonel, baffled in his own attempts, kept 
 his eye upon Cato. The poor dog was as un- 
 successful as his master ; till at length, spurred, 
 as it were, by some sudden recollection, he 
 started off at full speed, and retraced his path 
 for about three or four hundred yards. The
 
 GLENLONELY. 2*29 
 
 Colonel watched him with intense anxiety. Be 
 it instinct or reason which makes dogs such 
 close obsei'vers, he knew the fact : this was 
 no moment for anah'sis; and he watched for 
 the result as their last and only hope. 
 
 When Cato had gained the distance we have 
 mentioned, he stopped short ; eyed the cliffs for 
 a second ; then, retreating to the water's edge, 
 and adding to his powers by a lengthened run, 
 he dashed at the rock, and was lost to sight. 
 
 " By the Saints above !" said Giovannino, 
 the dog is right. I mind the spot ; the road is 
 wider, — the rocks more broken. If hope there 
 be, 'tis there." 
 
 Winged with fear and hope, Giovannino 
 started off like a racer, and beckoned to the 
 Colonel, who, as may be supposed, was not 
 slow to follow. In a short time they arrived 
 where Cato had disappeared. Having attained 
 to a ledge some thirty feet high, he was now 
 lookinir for his master with outstretched eve- 
 balls and marked impatience. 
 
 The aspect was not promising. Had not the 
 Colonel often seen Cato scramble up a wall like
 
 230 GLENLONELY. 
 
 a cat, he would have deemed it impossible that 
 he could have gained the position he held: but 
 there he was. If the chance were desperate, the 
 stake was life, and death alike if the hazard 
 were lost or refused. 
 
 For some height, the face of the rock was ra- 
 ther overhanging than perpendicular ; broken, 
 however, so as to receive the claws of a dog, 
 though scarcely enough for the footing of man. 
 
 " My kingdom for a scaling-ladder!" said 
 the Colonel ; for he was a true soldier, and where 
 theie was just the possibility, he never despaired : 
 calmness and joke mingled with courage, which 
 seemed to rise in proportion to the danger. 
 
 " Come, quick, Giovannino; you are the 
 lighter, and must try first : there is rest for one 
 foot : you must cling with your hands like the 
 wings of a bat." And, having marked the point 
 to which he was to spring, by scratching the 
 dark rock, he awaited in readiness to assist 
 Giovannino's attempt. 
 
 " Bravo ! " cried the Colonel : " be calm, and 
 you'll do. Now pause ; now shift your hold ; 
 now your foot on the muzzle of my gun. Bravo
 
 GLENLONELY. 231 
 
 aojain ! Body straight: stick to the rock as if 
 fired from the mouth of Harlequin's gun ; one 
 effort more, and you '11 reach the ledge ; now 
 trust your arms, the twigs are tough ; the walls 
 are iron ! Victory ! the victory is ours ! " 
 
 And as the gallant Colonel watched the ener- 
 gies of Giovannino, and directed his movements, 
 he forgot his own danger, as much as though he 
 had been directing the efforts of a storming party. 
 
 Giovannino was safely lodged by the side of 
 Cato, who, heedless of his arrival, devoted his 
 fixed attention to his master. Giovannino could 
 not do less ; grateful for the Colonel's exertions, 
 and anxious to share with him the mercies of 
 escape, he implored him to lose not an instant. 
 Lying flat down, and grasping with one hand 
 a firmly rooted sapling, he kept the other at 
 liberty to render assistance. 
 
 The Colonel had now to get into action, as 
 well as command. He would not relinquish his 
 gun, for he looked to its aid as a connecting 
 link. Taking the hint from Cato, he retreated 
 a few paces, and, by a desperate effort, planted 
 his foot at the point he had marked, and retained
 
 232 GLEN LONELY. 
 
 his position by clinging strongly with his left 
 hand. The next movement was eminently 
 perilous : another footing could be obtained only 
 by shifting his hold, and drawing himself up. 
 To effect this, he gradually described the seg- 
 ment of a circle with his right hand, keeping 
 his arm as close to the cliff as the hour hand to 
 the face of a clock. When raised above his 
 head, he rested the projection of the locks in a 
 crevice, and lowered his hand until he had firm 
 hold of the but of his gun. On looking up- 
 wards, he caught Giovannino's eye, and warned 
 him to retire till he gave the word; even 
 Purdey's lock might fail in this novel trial, and 
 his ally be shot through the head. 
 
 Having taken these preparatory measures, he 
 used his locks as a mountaineer would his crook, 
 and succeeded in creeping up till the shelving 
 rocks no longer afforded assistance. " Now, 
 Giovannino ; now or never ! Purdev or 
 ' perduto ! ' " cried the Colonel, raising the 
 gun to the utmost, and sporting his joke and 
 Italian at the same time. " Now for your 
 aid ! " But Giovannino could render little :
 
 GLENLOXELY. 233 
 
 his fingers just reached the muzzle, and that 
 was alL 
 
 " Can you raise the gun ?" asked the Colonel. 
 
 " Yes, Signor," was the quick reply ; and 
 the Colonel feeling the gun in Giovannino's 
 hold, relinquished his own. 
 
 " Pass one strap of the knapsack round the 
 but. Make fast to the other, and lower the 
 piece," said the Colonel, whose mind, formed 
 amidst difficulties, immediately seized on every 
 human resource. His orders were instantly 
 obeyed. Giovannino passed the strap round 
 his arm; and, clinching it in his hand, he 
 lowered the gun until the Colonel was able to 
 grasp the muzzle. 
 
 " Hold firm !" cried the Colonel, as he pre- 
 pared for the struggle on which his life depended. 
 
 Giovannino rallied all his strength to save 
 his deliverer. " This arm may be pulled from 
 its socket," he said within himself; '• but till 
 then it shall not fail." 
 
 The next minute Cato, the Colonel, and 
 Giovannino were standing in comparative se- 
 curity. They turned their looks to the coming
 
 234 GLENLONELY. 
 
 torrent: it closed like a mantle around the demon 
 pier. The bridge was lifted in the air with tlie 
 shock of an exploding mine; and in a moment 
 more it was lost in the dense column of ascend- 
 ing dust and spray. 
 
 Giovannino shuddered at the destruction of 
 a work so awfully mysterious : the reputed 
 architect was one of his earliest recollections. 
 No Catholic dared to cross it without the armour 
 of a Pater noster ; and some time in the year the 
 poorest left their mite in a begging-box for its 
 repair. Whether this were to make friends with 
 the devil — a maxim some recommended, — or 
 to verify the tradition, that the bridge was in- 
 destructible, we cannot stop to decide. What- 
 ever might be Giovannino's opinion, even if he 
 expected the spirits of hell to rise and resent 
 the assault, there was little time for prayer : 
 he recollected the height of the departed bridge, 
 and felt that their present refuge would shortly 
 cease to be a place of safety. 
 
 Cato, being neither native nor Catholic, most 
 probably did not join in the whole range of 
 Giovannino's thoughts and fears; but he de-
 
 GLENLONELY. 235 
 
 cidedly jumped with their conchision. He was 
 again restless, and on the look out for the means 
 of ascending higher. Now was the Colonel's 
 turn to assist his faithful leader. The sjwt which 
 they occupied is well defined by that little word : 
 the addition of a rabbit, for Cato's amusement, 
 would have made it crowded. Though to pro- 
 ceed higher appeared easy from below, a thin 
 projecting ledge hid, for the present, their future 
 course: it was an obstruction, not difficult for 
 man, but impossible for a dog, unless he could 
 leap with the curve of a comet. Cato, though 
 possessed of sagacity, and a tail, had not this 
 property, and must have remained to die, if his 
 master had not started him on his way. Having 
 done this, his voice was shortly heard at a 
 considerable elevation, cheering the rescued tra- 
 vellers to fresh exertions. 
 
 Again the Colonel aided Giovannino to ad- 
 vance, and succeeded in clearing the obstruction 
 himself. They now found themselves in a steep 
 ravine, down which the melting snows had found 
 a channel, and carried portions of soil, which 
 nursed a stunted vegetation. Comparatively,
 
 236 GLEXLONELY. 
 
 their toil and danger were light ; and fortunate 
 it was that such was the case. They had not 
 attained more than one hundred feet, when they 
 were deafened by the thundering deluge. On 
 it came, rearing its curved and crested head — 
 swift, overwhelming, and resistless. Giovannino 
 shrank to the Colonel's side, and clung in terror 
 to his arm. As it neared their position, the 
 receding rocks offered less resistance, and the 
 waters sprang on like a monster at the sight of 
 its destined prey. This sudden impulse, joined 
 to the decay of ages worked in the ravine, added 
 to the accumulating horrors. The mountain 
 shook beneath their feet : immense fiaorments 
 were borne like pebbles in the flood; the air, 
 suddenly displaced, rose like a whirlwind on 
 high, seizing in its grasp the loosened pines, and 
 volumes of earth and water. For some moments, 
 the travellers were enveloped in darkness, and 
 blinded by the suffocating cloud : but on it 
 passed. Once more they looked upon the 
 moving colunm which hovered in the air, like 
 vultures on the march of armies — so, at least, 
 thought the Colonel, as he saw the eddying
 
 GLENLONELY. 237 
 
 winds pounce on the falling trees, and hang 
 upon the rear of desolation. Beneath their feet 
 nothing remained but a yawning precipice, 
 and the dark and troubled flood : on this were 
 borne the trophies of the fell destroyer — men, 
 women, children, swept from the cottage, or 
 the grounds their hands were tilling ; now seen, 
 now lost ; now lifted on the bounding wave, with 
 all the mockery of struggling life. The Alpine 
 village had perished, and all was lost ! — flocks 
 and cattle — hamlets crushed — their roofs and 
 beams, the peasant's household wealth — the in- 
 fant's cradle, and the bed of leaves — all were 
 floating like feathers on the waves — one sad and 
 mingled chaos of destruction ! 
 
 It was a fearful and terrific sight : yet the 
 Colonel could not withdraw his gaze. His 
 heart was bleeding; his sympathies were in- 
 tensely raised; and, in defiance of impossibility, 
 the wish to save was prompting him to action. 
 It was not till these poor victims had been hur- 
 ried past, that he veiled his eyes and heart 
 against the rock for support. 
 
 " My Signer ! my kind Signor I " said Gio-
 
 *238 GLEN LONELY. 
 
 vannino, taking the Colonel's hand ; "once you 
 have saved my life; again that life is in dan- 
 ger. The rocks are crumbling at our feet : 
 we perish if we linger here." 
 
 In saying this, Giovannino thought as much, 
 if not more, of the Colonel's safety than his 
 own ; but, with the quick tact of his country- 
 men, he hoped to rouse the Colonel, by asking 
 assistance for himself. He was not mistaken : 
 his kind heart answered to the appeal. 
 
 " True ! " he said, with a forced smile ; "I 
 must not forget the soldier's motto, ' 'T is wiser 
 to serve the living, than mourn the dead.' " 
 
 Though the torrents were passing with 
 frightful velocity, it would have been idle to 
 remain until they had subsided. Their retreat 
 was cut off; and "Forward!" must be the 
 word. When there is no choice, what a world 
 of trouble it saves ! In the present crisis, the 
 mind was relieved from the exertion of debate, 
 and the necessity of ascending was every in- 
 stant more apparent. Piece after piece of the 
 splintered rock continued to fall. They could 
 feel each mass grating and trembling beneath
 
 GLENLONELY. 239 
 
 them, as it started in its course, and fell, un- 
 heard, in the roaring waters. They obeyed 
 this imperative notice to quit; and, ere they 
 had gained many feet, they saw their late lodg- 
 ing? fall like the sands of an hour-G;lass. 
 
 The higher they ascended, the more compact 
 were the rocks : but here, if the mind were 
 spared, the body was not. In many places, the 
 ravine presented an appearance much like the 
 section of a chimney ; and as the Colonel, with 
 all his ambition of rising in the world, had 
 never learnt to climb like a chimney-sweeper, 
 the labour was infinite to him ; and not much 
 less so to Giovannino. 
 
 At length, however, the two arrived in safety 
 on the summit of the mountain, which here 
 could be little less than six hundred feet high. 
 " Heaven be praised ! " cried the Colonel ; and 
 he waved his hat, and stretched his arms, as 
 joyously as ever poor orphan did when he rose 
 from a chimney-pot. He next attempted to 
 arrange his dress ; and, glancing at his unruly 
 rags and tatters, he said, " This is worse than 
 the side door to your Giant's Rib."
 
 24-0 GLENLONELY. 
 
 The allusion recalled Giovannino's thoughts 
 to the scenes they had passed ; and, mounting a 
 more elevated crag, he beckoned to the Colonel, 
 and pointed in the direction of the " Valley 
 of Rocks." Changed indeed were the sloping 
 hills of emerald green ! They now formed the 
 basin of a wide and blackened lake — the ga- 
 thering point of the dead — the inland wreck of 
 what was once a village. 
 
 The Giant's Ribs, capacious as they were, 
 were but a siphon to the mass of waters; but 
 the mountains which overlaid the skeleton with- 
 stood their angry shock. The Colonel, of course, 
 could only image what was going on within the 
 shaft, from which they so lately escaped. But 
 he afterwards met a peasant, who said that, on 
 looking from above, the flood was seen to escape 
 from the cavern, and rise like a water-spout — 
 higher and higher, as the lake increased in 
 depth ; " till, bursting in the ' Devil's Caldron,' 
 it added to the boiling waves." 
 
 In thus concluding his description, the pea- 
 sant intended neither joke nor pun; the re- 
 collection of the scene was too recent to admit
 
 GLENLONELY. 241 
 
 of either. He spoke as if he still were a spec- 
 tator ; and, if the " Devil's Caldron " and 
 boiling water were united by the spirit of fun, 
 it had no more effect on his muscles than tick- 
 ling a paralysed limb. 
 
 What a jumble is man, of good, evil, mer- 
 riment, and grief! How they tug, jostle, 
 mingle, and strive to master the frail machine 
 wherein they dwell ! How rarely, alas ! can the 
 head play engineer, divide, control, and di- 
 rect their powers as he would ! How hard, if 
 not impossible, to be what we wish, or do what 
 we intend ! 
 
 Most assuredly it was not our intention to 
 fall into these reflections, nor to conclude this 
 chapter, until we had lodged our travellers 
 within the exile's castle ; but the devil tempted 
 us astray, as he often has, and led us, as he 
 always does, into hot water I 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 242 GLENLONELY. 
 
 CHAP. IX. 
 
 THE GHOST AND ITS LITTLE ONE. 
 
 Mais il e:-;t certains cliapitres qui m'echappent, ou 
 plutot il en est d'autres qui coulent de ma plume, comme 
 nialgre moi, et qui deroutent mes projets ; de ce nombre 
 est celui. 
 
 Xavier de Maistre. 
 
 We are told, on the highest authority, that " to 
 eat with unwashen hands defileth not a man." 
 This may be true, when the hands are doing 
 the work of that mortal greedy member, the 
 stomach ; but cannot be allowed when working 
 for the head, — the seat of intellect and soul. 
 No : in that case, we can assure our readers, 
 more especially divines, that the purity of per- 
 son should emulate that of the mind : the 
 hands should be clean as the conscience ; the 
 paper spotless as the heart; the pen new, and
 
 GLENLONELY. 243 
 
 the ink — albeit black and bitter — should 
 flow like the milk of human kindness; and 
 then there is no saying how excellent a sermon 
 may not be produced ; taking for granted, that 
 mind, conscience, and heart, are what they 
 ought to be, and in the right place. 
 
 But we hasten to dispel unfounded alarm. 
 We are not about to write a sermon, though 
 we do set to work more tidily than the hungry 
 artificer, — the " great unwashed." Our task 
 shall be, deeds as well as words, — practice 
 without preaching ; anij, with the least possible 
 delay, we will lead the hungry and houseless to 
 a home for the night, and bid adieu to the 
 devil for the present. 
 
 " Well," said the Colonel, as he continued to 
 watch the swelling lake, and saw Giovannino 
 absorbed in thought ; " well, Giovannino, are 
 you thinking of our fate, if the floods had sur- 
 prised us in your skeleton cavern." 
 
 " I was, my Signor ; and I shudder to think 
 of the danger to which my vanity led you." 
 
 " Never mind : I like you the better, and 
 wish ever}' Briton were as proud of his country. 
 M 2
 
 244 GLENLONELY. 
 
 Only remember my caution to guides in an 
 enemy's country — a man don't like to be left 
 alone in the dark. But answer my question." 
 
 " What would have been our fate?" repeated 
 Giovannino, and catching the Colonel's style; 
 "why I think we should have passed from the 
 giant's throat like shot from the mouth of a 
 cannon." 
 
 " Or," said the Colonel, who felt he was 
 robbed of his simile, " been stuck to the roof 
 like the busts at Herculaneum, and left our 
 casts in mud, as they did in lava." 
 
 " Some difference betw^een fire and water, 
 my Signor," ventured Giovannino to suggest. 
 
 " True," said the Colonel ; " but you cap- 
 tured my cannon, and I sacked your country for 
 comparison. A hot fire is apt enough to a 
 soldier's thoughts. But now, a truce to joking, 
 and let us think of quarters for the night." 
 
 The Colonel was one of those buoyant spirits, 
 which, depress them as you wlW, instantly 
 struggle to rise again. It must not be sup- 
 posed that he who is blessed with such elasticity 
 has neither feeling nor kindness of heart. On
 
 GLENLONELY. 245 
 
 the contrary, the Colonel would go through 
 fire and water, make any sacrifice, to serve a 
 fi'iend; but he would do it cheerfully. He 
 could weep with those who wept ; but it was 
 not his wont. He was not one of those who, 
 meaning to console, make matters worse by the 
 length of their faces. 
 
 Giovannino assured the Colonel they would 
 easily gain the high road; which, he con- 
 fessed, it might have been wise to have taken 
 originally. While they were journeying on, 
 the Colonel took the opportunity of inquiring 
 the cause of the awful visitation they had wit- 
 nessed. It seemed to be an occurrence not 
 unusual in a mountainous district, though 
 rarely upon a scale so terrific and fatal. A 
 stream, tributary to the river they had traced, 
 had been choked by an avalanche : the weight 
 of descending snow stript the pines from the 
 mountains, and mingled with the fallen mass 
 till they became a barrier, perfect for the pre- 
 sent, but treacherous for the future. By 
 degrees a lake was formed, creeping on, like 
 M 3
 
 •24-6 GLENLONELY. 
 
 a thief in tlie night, till at length the inhabit- 
 ants awoke to the sense of danger. The usual 
 measures were taken for draining off the waters 
 gradually : they were nearly completed, when, 
 with the shock of an earthquake, the floodgate 
 of nature burst, and let destruction loose. 
 
 The sun, still cloudless and bright, as though 
 it looked on nothing but happiness, was calmly 
 approaching the gorgeous canopy prepared for 
 its descent. The Colonel, remarking how much 
 they had diverged from the course of the river, 
 and seeing no signs of habitation, inquired if 
 they h ad much farther to go ? 
 
 "Ko, Signor: we should have arrived ere 
 sunset, but for our unlooked-for delay. Look 
 yonder, where the road ceases." 
 
 " I perceive," said the Colonel, who had 
 already remarked the fact, and wondered how 
 its future windings were hidden. 
 
 " When we reach that point," continued 
 Giovannino, " we are scarcely more than half 
 an hour distant from the castle." 
 
 "Wisely spoken," said the Colonel, "since 
 the measure of time is the same all over the
 
 GLENLONELY. 247 
 
 world. But how is it I lose the road at yonder 
 point, though the ground is rising?" 
 
 " Simply, Signor, because there is no road 
 any farther." 
 
 "How?" asked the Colonel, who looked at 
 least for farther explanation. 
 
 *' You know," replied Giovannino, " my 
 master, with all his excellence, is wild and 
 whimsical, and has a horror of intrusion. 
 Moggeridge, that mammoth of a man, though 
 gentle as my lord — do you know him also?" 
 
 The Colonel nodded assent. 
 
 " * Moggeridge,' said my lord, 'if I shut my- 
 self up, I've no wish to be stared at like a lion 
 in a cage: I seek retirement to please myself, 
 not others. Let the road end here, and bring 
 curiosity to a check.' " 
 
 " A sharp one, too," said Colonel Murray, 
 as he saw the barren and rocky ascent : " very 
 much like a march on the points of pyramids, 
 or sitting on thorns if one wished to halt. What 
 said old Moggeridge, the engineer?" 
 
 " Not a word, Signor," continued Giovan- 
 liino; " for he petted my lord in his whims like 
 M 4
 
 248 GLENLONELY. 
 
 a spoiled cliild ; asking pardon for my liberty 
 of speech. Starded at first, he was soon recon- 
 ciled to the order : repeating the favourite oath 
 he had picked up in his travels, ' It be a mys- 
 tery to I,' he added, musing half aloud, ' but 
 my lord is right ; the English are curious ani- 
 mals when abroad, and they'd follow like hounds 
 if they once got scent of our castle.' Such was 
 his only remark, if I speak it correctly." 
 
 The Colonel complimented Giovannino on 
 his innocent attempt to swear in English ; and 
 they proceeded, though with pain and difficulty. 
 The guide received a few more lessons of English, 
 as the Colonel from time to time cracked his 
 shins, or, feeling the rock enter his sole, vented 
 his anger in words more abrupt than those of 
 John Moggeridge : we hope they were as inno- 
 cent. Be this as it may, he heartily v/ished that 
 Herbert Lindsay had had less of romance, and 
 more of the hard heart of M'Adam. 
 
 After gaining the summit of this chevaux de 
 
 frise of stone, as the Colonel called it, they looked 
 
 upon a descent more steep, but comparatively 
 
 easy. Beyond this, they partly caught sight of a
 
 GLENLONELY. 249 
 
 large insulated rock which rose in the midst of 
 surrounding valley and precipice. 
 
 "Behold, Signor," cried Giovannino, "yonder 
 are the castle walls ! " 
 
 The Colonel, anxious to rejoin his friend, 
 and by no means sorry to reach head-quarters, 
 hailed the tidings, and exerted to the utmost 
 his powers of vision, but in vain ; neither walls 
 nor signs of habitation could be detected. 
 Though the sun had disappeared, it was not 
 dark ; the canopy of ruby gold, which veiled its 
 flight, was still waving in the west, and the 
 moon, like an impatient rival, had long been 
 watching an opportunity of struggling into light : 
 but the Colonel, much as he prided himself 
 upon a quick sight, was fain to confess he could 
 see nothing in the shape of a wall. 
 
 " Wait a little, my Signor," said Giovannino ; 
 and, having passed some high masses on their 
 right, they suddenly came in full view of the 
 island rock, if so we may term a mountain, 
 surrounded by running w^ater ; falling from a 
 series of cascades. A river made its rude assault 
 on one side, and, repulsed by solid rock, fled 
 M 5
 
 250 GLENLONELY. 
 
 right and left, till, with the slight assistance of 
 art, the two branches met on the opposite side, 
 and clipped the mountain hke a pair of calipers. 
 Here, reuniting, hke lovers parted for a time, 
 they journeyed together to their grave, the all- 
 absorbing ocean. The mountain itself was in 
 form like the section of a pear. We regret 
 that we could not lay our hands on some more 
 exalted simile ; but, let the reader reflect and 
 forgive. 
 
 If Italy, the land of which we are describing 
 an atom, is known in geography as the high- 
 heeled boot about to make a foot-ball of Sicily, 
 and kick it to Africa, surely we may be forgiven 
 if we beg the loan of half a pear to illustrate 
 the figure of our exile's home. Having, we trust, 
 convinced the reader that there is no mean- 
 ness in borrowing, we continue the description, 
 by saying, the mountain itself was shaped like 
 the section of a pear, inaccessible on all sides 
 but one ; where the declining rock terminated 
 in a narrow tongue, — borrowed, perad venture, 
 from a lady, as it answered incessantly to the 
 babbling stream. The surface of the mountain
 
 GLENLOXELY. 251 
 
 was considerable, and nearly level, with the 
 exception of a part which rose wildly above the 
 rest, as designed by nature for the last strong- 
 hold of man. 
 
 " Now, Signor," repeated Giovannino, in- 
 terrupting the Colonel's contemplations of this 
 singular rock ; " now don't you see the walls, 
 and the castle too." 
 
 The Colonel was again obliged to confess 
 his inability to do so ; indeed it were difficult, 
 unless well acquainted with the localities. The 
 walls, the towers, and castle were all built of 
 the rock, and on the rock. In the course of 
 time, the colouring had become so uniform, that, 
 in the broad light of day, it was not easy to 
 say where art began and nature ended. De- 
 stiuction, wrought by the ruthless force of 
 powder, had been continued by the gentle, yet 
 treacherous, hand of time : flowers, shrubs, the 
 pine, olive, and oak were rooting themselves on 
 and amidst the ruins, and, under the mask of 
 beauty, furthering the work of the silent de- 
 stroyer ; the battlements of the square tower 
 which once formed the citadel, were broken and 
 M 6
 
 252 GLENLONELY. 
 
 wild as the precipice on which they stood ; and 
 the walls which guarded the only accessible 
 point, were left as found, or rudely repaired by 
 the weather-beaten materials their ruin afforded. 
 
 Herbert Lindsay, the present lord of the 
 castle and rock, formed a strong contrast to its 
 former possessors. Their motto was " war," 
 his " peace." He dreaded no attack, save that 
 of idle and impertinent curiosity : his only pri- 
 soners were the pet animals, which enjoyed 
 their parole on his mountain barony ; and the 
 feature of decay, in the midst of life, spoke to his 
 blighted heart in the tone of harmony and love. 
 
 The chances of war and fire which led to the 
 destruction of Castel-a-Mare, had spared, in a 
 great degree, those portions most suited to one 
 who wished to dwell in peace. The baronial 
 hall, and much of what in modern phrase is 
 styled " domestic," were nearly entire ; reared 
 under the wing of the dark square tower of 
 strength, their comparative weakness proved 
 their salvation. Apartments, at elevations of end- 
 less variety, and approached by means of strange 
 complexity, were numerous as their fashion. 
 The passages, like the chimneys, were practised
 
 GLENLONELY. 253 
 
 in the solid walls : the stairs wound like a cork- 
 screw ; branched like a Chinese puzzle ; or, 
 played the ups and downs of a dromedary's 
 back. The architect must have anticipated the 
 confinement of a siege, and invented the game 
 of hide and seek. 
 
 Amidst the many, there was one apartment, 
 or rather a nest of rooms, so singular in form 
 and access, yet so decidedly feminine in finish 
 and beauty, that we must attempt the descrip- 
 tion, and leave the reader to supply the fair 
 inhabitant. 
 
 Overhanging the rock, was an oriel window. 
 From this the beholder gazed enraptured upon 
 the falls of the river, — the forest, through which 
 it darted, — upon Alpine grandeur to the right, 
 — and on the left, upon a landscape extending to 
 the Gulf of Venice ; — the coup cVceil embracing 
 a scene richer, more beautiful, more sublimely 
 magnificent, than Salvator, in his wildest mo- 
 ments of inspiration, could have conceived or 
 shadowed forth. Two small towers concealed 
 the window from every point of the rock itself; 
 and even Herbert Lindsay knew not of its 
 existence, until, exploring the course of the
 
 254 GLENLONELY. 
 
 river, he looked back upon his romantic pur- 
 chase. The next question was, how the rooms 
 were approached : this appeared as mysterious 
 as the apple within the regal dumpling, or toad 
 in the heart of oak. Herbert Lindsay, however, 
 was determined to find an entrance, though 
 obliged, like the good king, to cut his way 
 through. 
 
 Adjoining to the vast hall devoted to the 
 sustenance of the body, was a smaller building 
 for the benefit of souls which hungered after 
 heavenly food. The priestly taste in the sculp- 
 tured stone, the remains of snug confessionals, 
 and what was once an altar, clearly pointed to 
 its former purposes. Having calculated the 
 bearing of the oriel window, Herbert Lindsay 
 was convinced that the apartments, be they for 
 prison or pleasure, were situated above the 
 chapel. To pursue the metaphor: in taking 
 the soundings of the wall, he remarked some 
 pierced and broken fret-work, relieved by 
 shadow more than usually dark. Upon strik- 
 ing the stone, a hollow echo was returned; and 
 the openings could be pierced deeper than the 
 probings of a custom-house officer.
 
 GLENLONELY. 255 
 
 It was not difficult to trace this cavity to the 
 ruins of the high altar. These were speedily 
 removed; and a low arched doorway was seen 
 in the wall, immediately behind the altar. 
 A thin slab of marble had evidently formed 
 the door, answering, in appearance, to others 
 right and left, but contrived to move aside 
 like a sliding panel. The destruction of the 
 altar had broken the marble, and partly 
 filled up the entrance. Provided with wax 
 torches and the means of light, he and his at- 
 tendants soon effected an entry; and he found 
 himself in a narrow passage, sufficiently high 
 and airy, and lighted by rays which shot like 
 stars through the dark relief given to orna- 
 ments carved on the chapel wall. The architect 
 had managed his ascent as a modern engineer 
 would conquer a mountain, — by winding like 
 a boa round its prey : steps there were none ; 
 but the passage gradually rose as it pursued 
 the line of the chapel walls, and passed to those 
 of the banquetting hall. Here, also, the same 
 method of lighting was continued, till, suddenly 
 ceasing, there was darkness for some distance, 
 which ended in a strange and mystic light.
 
 256 GLENLONELY. 
 
 changing with wreaths of vapour or smoke, 
 which slowly mounted from below. As Herbert 
 Lindsay had neither the fears nor hopes of 
 Macbeth, he boldly proceeded, until his pro- 
 gress was cut short by coming to a large shaft, 
 showing a patch of blue sky above, and the 
 embers of burning wood below : it was, in fact, 
 the chimney, well proportioned to the huge 
 fire-place of the hall. What was to be done ? 
 He thought he could perceive that the passage 
 was continued on the opposite side, though 
 nearly concealed by two planks of black oak, 
 which extended upwards, and lay close to the 
 stone-work. He was soon convinced there 
 were no witches to fear ; but certain savoury 
 odours told, that one more step would be as 
 fatal as though he were to fall into a mess of 
 
 " Toes of frog, tongue of dog, 
 Nose of Turk, and Tartar's lips; 
 Fenny snake, and charms which make 
 A hell-broth boil and bubble." 
 
 A large beam, nearly level with his feet, tra- 
 versed the fiery gulf: this, by a firm step and 
 active spring, might be gained; but it was 
 rounded on the upper side, as if to make the
 
 GLENLONELY. 257 
 
 footing more difficult. Indeed, the boldest 
 could perch himself there to little purpose, 
 unless there were an open passage for a second 
 leap. 
 
 His inventive brain quickly caught at the 
 idea of a drawbridge, which the beam was well 
 calculated to support. Having sent for his 
 hunting spear, and such means as occurred for 
 furthering his research, he amused himself by 
 watching the wreathings of the eddying smoke, 
 inimitably graceful in its silent flight, whether 
 from the cottage backed by woods, or expiring 
 taper. How infinite is beauty to those who 
 have eyes and see ! 
 
 After a short delay, the messengers returned ; 
 and, selecting a spear used in hunting the boar, 
 he attached a cord, and hurled it against the 
 black oak, as the fisher of whales would launch 
 his harpoon. The wood, however, proved less 
 vulnerable than the monster of the deep, 
 though the point entered far enough to prove 
 that he had conjectured rightly. A lengthened 
 pole, with a boat-hook, proved a more effective 
 weapon ; and, with little effort, the bridge, if
 
 258 GLENLONELY. 
 
 such it might be called, was lowered till it 
 touched the beam. There were now scarcely 
 more than three feet between the plank and 
 landing on which they stood : Lindsay eagerly 
 seized a light from the hands of an attendant, 
 and crossed this extraordinary approach. 
 
 Giovannino was amonofst those who watched 
 their fearless lord, and joined in their anxiety, 
 though he felt but little of their superstitious 
 doubts. Appearances were, we confess, likely 
 to awake such feelings. The fitful light which 
 occasionally flashed from below, met by the 
 rays from above, confounded with the glare 
 of their own torches, produced an unearthly 
 effect as it glanced on their pale and anxious 
 features. Still more unearthly was the appear- 
 ance of Herbert Lindsay, as, passing the light 
 smoke from the burning logs, he disturbed its 
 ascent, and it seemed to close around him like 
 a winding shroud. As he approached the op- 
 posite side, his torch burnt with more power, 
 and dimly disclosed a passage answering to the 
 one in which they stood. One step more, and 
 he would gain the entrance ; deeming all danger
 
 GLENLONELY. 259 
 
 passed, they withdrew the spear with which 
 they had steadied the end of the bridge, when, 
 in an instant, it flapped back to its former 
 position ; — their lord was precipitated forward, 
 and his torch extinguished ! 
 
 If their nerves had trembled from dread 
 uncertainty, it may be supposed they were not 
 braced by this slight reality. How many saints 
 were invoked, or crosses signed, we know not, 
 nor how long their prayers would have lasted, 
 had not an angry voice consigned them to the 
 devil for not lowering the bridge again. 
 
 Herbert — the gentle Herbert — on recover- 
 ing the centre of gravity, lost his usual serenity 
 at finding his voice inaudible. There is nothing 
 like an oath when we are angered; it is the 
 best of sedatives. Don't mistake us, gracious 
 reader : swearing we abhor, — we, who are 
 president of a temperance society, — we, whose 
 grandmother was a Penn* (this, by the way, 
 accounts for our writing), — we, who have for- 
 sworn wine, spirits, and swearing, — we merit 
 no such misconstruction. But the hermit must 
 
 * It is only the pen of a goose that is spelt otherwise.
 
 260 GLENLONELV. 
 
 have water, and the quaker his " Verily, oh !" 
 We care not how innocent the oath; whether 
 we swear by London milk, bread-pudding, or 
 Dorsetshire cheese, it matters not ; but an oath 
 we must have : it is the safety-valve of bile ; 
 it clears the throat for forgiveness, purity, and 
 affection. 
 
 We are far from defending Herbert Lindsay's 
 invocation, and only plead in extenuation, his 
 fallen state, his bruises, and utter darkness — 
 for bringing the devil to his mind. Unlawful as 
 the means w^ere, they answered two purposes : 
 his attendants recovered their senses, and he 
 his temper. 
 
 The former expedient was repeated. Again 
 the bridge was lowered, and the shadowy figure 
 of Herbert could be faintly traced in the opposite 
 passage. Giovannino, torch in hand, quickly 
 passed, and, with a light spring, gained a safe 
 footing by the side of his lord. 
 
 To borrow from the eloquence of the senate, 
 the " untoward event," w^hich made his lord- 
 ship " stand prostrate," was readily explained. 
 This drawbridge in miniature had no claim to
 
 GLENLOXELY. 261 
 
 the first syllable ; for there was neither chain 
 nor substitute employed to lower or draw up 
 the bridge. Close to the axis on which it 
 moved, the length of plank was overbalanced 
 by weight : consequently, when left to itself, 
 the bridge recovered its perpendicular. Her- 
 bert Lindsay, ignorant of this, by adding the 
 weight of his body, gave it that additional im- 
 petus which so unexpectedly led to his " stand- 
 ing prostrate." 
 
 Having, thanks to our Parliament, thrown 
 light on this obscure passage, we will resume 
 our researches. The ascent continued : after 
 a little, the rays of day-light were again ad- 
 mitted, till, on turning abruptly to the left, they 
 ceased entirely. With the aid of torches, they 
 proceeded some yards, when the walls on the 
 right swept out into a circular form, and ter- 
 minated the passage: whether this merely fol- 
 lowed the shape of a flanking tower, or was 
 made to facilitate farther progress, Lindsay did 
 not stop to consider. A current of air nearly 
 extinguished his light, and directed the flame 
 towards a slight "dumpy "door, which was partly
 
 262 GLENLONELY. 
 
 open ; in a few moments it was quite so, and he 
 entered upon the stone floor of an extensive 
 apartment, scarcely four feet high, and with- 
 out windows. On one side were narrow loop- 
 holes, evidently formed to admit fresh air, and 
 not for defence. 
 
 A little reflection convinced him that he was 
 treading the stone roof of the chapel; and, 
 judging from the divisions around, this chamber 
 had been used for stores, and, at the same time, 
 served to prevent the communication of sound 
 from the apartments above. 
 
 It was long before he could detect any 
 possible egress; at length, passing a range of 
 dwarfish columns, the roof increased to a height 
 beyond the reach of torchlight. Here, amidst a 
 confused pile of wood, he remarked a slight 
 recess in the wall, filled at the bottom with a 
 large flat stone, in form much resembling that 
 of a floodgate. This was imbedded in a solid 
 frame of oak, and secured in its position by two 
 grooves in the wall. In tlie centre was a ring 
 of rusty iron, which seemed to say, " Raise me, 
 if vou can."
 
 GLENLONELY. 263 
 
 Herbert read the hint; but the united power 
 of himself and attendants were unequal to the 
 task. In tracing the grooves, to see if there 
 were any obstruction, his eyes were attracted by 
 a strong chain, which hung from above. Pur- 
 suing this farther hint, and ordering the loose 
 beams to be cleared away, his expectations 
 were realised, by finding one ranged obliquely 
 against the wall, and acting as a powerful lever. 
 With little effort the end was raised ; and he 
 saw the chain descend within reach. Passing 
 a hook through the ring, he commanded his 
 attendants to exert their strength, and saw the 
 floodgate door slowly ascend, and open the way 
 to a flight of winding stairs. 
 
 Having secured the end of the lever to a ring 
 sunk in the stone floor, Herbert Lindsay was 
 hastening his ascent, when, treading on some- 
 thing which rolled beneath his feet, he would 
 have fallen a second time, had there been space 
 to do so. 
 
 " Body of Bacchus I " ejaculated Giovannino 
 (as if he thought it an oath suited to one who
 
 264 GLENLONELY. 
 
 could not keep his legs), " what now, your Ex- 
 cellency? " 
 
 But Giovannino was wrong. Had he invoked 
 some feminine saint, the name had been better 
 suited to the occasion. His torch again supplied 
 the place of the one that was extinguished ; and 
 Herbert discovered a bone on which his foot 
 had trodden; while he saw the fingers of the 
 hand extended to break his fall passed through 
 the sockets of a human skull ! 
 
 " How^ terrific ! " said Giovannino, as he saw 
 his lord calmly examining the relic he had 
 involuntarily grasped. 
 
 This short comment recalled Herbert Lind- 
 say from his meditations; and, relighting his 
 torch, he proceeded to a more minute investi- 
 gation. On the steps were scattered the bleached 
 remains of two human beings ; evidently those 
 of a woman and child. Close to a skeleton hand, 
 singularly small in size, and still encircled by 
 a simple gold ring, lay the skull of an infant ! 
 One step lower, was a ring of more costly work- 
 manship, as gay and brilliant in the company 
 of death as when it sparkled on the living.
 
 GLENLONELY. 265 
 
 Excepting these, a small crystal locket, contain- 
 ing part of a ring, and the remains of a broken 
 cruse, no clue or token remained. Judging 
 from the position of the disjointed bones, the 
 unhappy sufferer had watched the ponderous 
 door, until, sinking from exhaustion, she perished 
 with the infant in her arms ! 
 
 He knew it would be vain to ask assistance 
 from his superstitious attendants, and, therefore, 
 took upon himself the gravedigger's duty. Having 
 removed the gold ring from the senseless joints, 
 he collected the remains he had disturbed. 
 
 After ascending several steps he came to a 
 landing : the stairs, which seemed to have con- 
 tinued higher, were closed in with solid stone, 
 and a narrow passage branched from the land- 
 ing ; entering this, and descending some way, 
 he came to a door, contrived precisely as the 
 one in the chapel; but here the marble had 
 been pushed aside, and was entire. 
 
 His conjectures were now fully confirmed : 
 he stood in one of the two flanking towers ; this 
 communicated with two small rooms, and led to 
 one of ample size, cheerfully lighted by the 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 266 GLENLONELY. 
 
 oriel window in the centre, and one other oil 
 each side. The sculptured fire-place and roof — 
 the blocks of wood in the wall, arranged to sup- 
 port tapestry or silk — the tattered rags, which 
 flapped like mouldering banners, — all bore wit- 
 ness to the art and luxury which had once 
 adorned this wild retreat. 
 
 And why, asks the impatient reader, has he 
 been led to such out of the way holes and 
 corners: he is neither a rag merchant nor dealer 
 in bones and broken phials ! " Why," he asks, 
 " exposed to the risk of being smoked, like a 
 ham, in the dark!" "And why were the Colonel 
 and his page left to shiver in the cold, instead 
 of being snugl}' quartered for the night !" 
 
 We plead guilty, and w^e beg forgiveness : w^e 
 acknowledge our breach of good breeding in 
 outstepping the Colonel ; our cruelty in smoking 
 the reader. We have been too forward, and 
 promise to atone by returning as quickly as 
 possible. 
 
 No wonder that Popery is gaining ground 
 (w^e are converts in our heart) : there is some- 
 thing so delightful in confession; it does so re-
 
 GLENLONELY. 267 
 
 concile us to our own way, a path whicli we 
 dearly love : so much so, that now, having 
 acknowledged how wicked we have been, our 
 conscience is light, and we have no scruple in 
 leaving the Colonel to take care of himself, 
 while w^e return to the haunted chamber. 
 
 Yes, of course, Giovannino, and more par- 
 ticularly his companions, knew there must be a 
 full-sized ghost, if not a little one ! — how 
 could it escape ? Tliere was neither crack nor 
 key-hole in the door, and no means occurred 
 to their memory, till they, one and all, saw 
 an annuel and cherub sail throuo;h the oriel 
 ivindow : such at least was the metamorphosis 
 effected by fear on a large white owl and its 
 young one. 
 
 Herbert Lindsay, being in advance, had a 
 more distinct view of the inhabitants which 
 their intrusion had put to flight. He en- 
 deavoured to remove their alarm ; but it is 
 easier to manage a madman than to reason 
 w^ith ignorance and panic. It was in vain that 
 he pointed to the silent evidences around : every 
 stain was converted into blood; and if there 
 N "2
 
 •268 GLENLONELY. 
 
 were feathers, it only proved that angels had 
 wings. 
 
 " But hark !" said he, as he heard a chorus ol 
 shrill whistling voices from the apartments they 
 had not entered ; " don't you recognise that 
 note?" and with little trouble he discovered a 
 nest of young hawks established in a niche of 
 the wall. 
 
 There is always mystery in silence ; whether 
 it be that of woman, man, or the musing of the 
 deaf and dumb : the bird of night had been 
 ejected without a murmur, but here was a 
 clamorous crew, and the anxious parents were 
 circling in the air. Giovannino took courage 
 at the sound, and, being ordered to convince 
 himself and companions, he succeeded in reach- 
 ing the nest, and withdrawing a young havv^k, 
 which promptly stuck his talons in his flesh. 
 
 This was conviction to all, especially Giovan- 
 nino. The Italians love a joke, and laugh as 
 merrily as we Northerns at the sufferings of 
 others: seeing the blood trickle from the wound, 
 they were merry in a moment, and as bold as 
 ever.
 
 GLENLONELY. "269 
 
 We will not pause to relate the many and sad 
 evidences of other inhabitants. The birds of 
 the air, the pitiless storm, the ravages of time, 
 had made a mockery of all. How awful is the 
 lesson from the silent working of corruption ! 
 how feeble the means — how vast the result ! 
 the beam of massive oak turned to dust by the 
 pigmy fungus; the labours of man devoured 
 by the moth ; the bar of iron eaten by the damp 
 which floats unseen ! Well might their power be 
 chosen as the type of this passing world, and 
 placed in opposition to the kingdom of Heaven, 
 " where neither moth nor dust doth corrupt." 
 
 While Giovannino and his companions dis- 
 cussed their lord's version of the ghosts, Her- 
 bert Lindsay was intently engaged in searching 
 for some record of the past. In the tower corre- 
 sponding to the one by which he had entered, he 
 was led to hope for success: it communicated with 
 the room where now the birds of prey had built 
 their cradles — where once, perchance, the mother 
 had watched the slumbers of her child. This spot 
 had evidently been used as a study or library : 
 amongst the trophies of the eagle and hawk — 
 N 3
 
 •270 GLEN LONELY. 
 
 bones picked dry, and fragments changing to 
 carrion — lay the form of manuscripts and books; 
 but they passed like the hope they had gen- 
 dered : they were but a shadow of their former 
 selves. On being touched, some mingled with 
 the air; others, mouldering and damp, scarcely 
 revealed the trace of written words: like the 
 witness, struck by death, they preserved their 
 original form, but the tale they might have told 
 was left to dark conjecture. 
 
 Herbert Lindsay made no discovery in ex- 
 amining these relics: the recess, which they 
 once had occupied, had served the double pur- 
 pose of door and bookcase. Calling for assist- 
 ance, he soon gained admittance to a gallery, or 
 passage, highly ornamented and commodious : 
 his path, however, was soon impeded by the 
 ruins of the fallen roof, and in a little time 
 stopped short by the destruction which had 
 reached this side of the castle. 
 
 Whilst looking down from the dizzy height 
 on which he stood, he could be at no loss 
 to comprehend that retreat in this direction was 
 hopeless. Opposite were the remains of that 
 large square tower which once formed the cita.-
 
 GLENLONELY. *27 1 
 
 del. Turnino- round to examine the ruins on 
 which he stood, and those immediately above, 
 he traced the abutments of a double arch, which 
 doubtless had communicated, like the Bridge of 
 Sighs," with the opposite tower. Judging from 
 appearances, the passage had continued in the 
 lower arch, while a second, immediately above, 
 formed a ceiling to the first, and afforded a foot- 
 way to the battlements over the apartments we 
 have explored. 
 
 And here we leave him to his meditations ; 
 and have little scruple in doing so. Herbert 
 Lindsay, although romantic and accomplished, 
 was a Scotchman : should any reader, imper- 
 tinently curious, put the question which called 
 forth Sawney's ready answer — " Going back 
 again " — it is possible that Herbert's reply to 
 the interrogatory, " What are you doing there ?" 
 — would also have been — " Going back again." 
 That he is well able to do so, without our as- 
 sistance, we are convinced : so, being tired 
 of our own way, we will join that of the be- 
 nighted Colonel. 
 
 " Do you call yonder black-faced rock a 
 i.- 4
 
 272 GLENLONELY. 
 
 wall?" asked the Colonel, as Giovannino led 
 him to the water's edge, and avoided that part 
 which appeared accessible. 
 
 " No, Signor," answered Giovannino ; " but, 
 if its face is black, 1 trust its ears are even 
 quicker than those of a wall." So saying, he 
 applied a bugle to his lips, and awoke the 
 echoes of the rock. 
 
 " If deaf, it's not dumb, at all events," said 
 the Colonel. 
 
 " Neither one nor the other, my Signor; 
 and if it be black as a negro, I trust it will wel- 
 come us like a faithful slave." 
 
 The Colonel looked for an explanation of his 
 guide's metaphorical joke ; and as he watched 
 the opposite bank, he perceived some dark ob- 
 ject gradually rise, and, curving over the stream, 
 extend its lengthened form, very much as if the 
 rock had been putting forth an arm to shake 
 hands with the travellers. 
 
 "And do you call this thing a bridge?" 
 asked the Colonel. 
 
 " Yes, Signor ; but mind your toes." 
 
 The Colonel retreated as the arch descended ; 
 and, having once more wished Lindsay's ro-
 
 GLENLONELY. 273 
 
 mance at the devil, he asked, " Where, in tlie 
 name of all that's wonderful, did your master 
 pick up this idea?" 
 
 " Can't tell, Signor," said Giovannino, " un- 
 less the hint was taken from a smoky old 
 chimney, which you doubtless will visit. But 
 let us cross while we can, or the bridge may be 
 tired of waiting : " and, accordingly, he led the 
 way. 
 
 They crossed in safety ; but had no sooner 
 done so, than the bridge once more rose in the 
 air, and then shrank within itself, like the 
 offended horn of a snail. 
 
 Colonel Murray now perceived that the rock 
 which had appeared so dark was the beginning 
 of a lofty cavern, which concealed the porter's 
 lodge from the farther bank of the river. Ravs 
 of light now flashed through the iron bars of a 
 small wicket in a gate, which looked much like 
 a portcullis ; while the voice of one engaged in 
 lighting torches said, "All's ready; advance!" 
 Giovannino, mindful of the morning lesson, 
 took the Colonel's hand, and led him towards 
 the gate. They had approached within a few 
 N 5
 
 274 GLENLONELY. 
 
 feet of the inhospitable barrier, when the 
 i^-round thev trod on sounded hollow, and 
 evidently sank with their weight. Before the 
 Colonel had time to ask a question, there w^as 
 another change, and the gate vanished with the 
 celerity of a spring-blind. 
 
 We are inclined to believe (though we have 
 never been able to prove) that there was a dark 
 plot between the young guide and the old 
 guardian of the castle-gate : in other words, that 
 youth and age, being equally proud of showing 
 off their master's lions, it was agreed between 
 them, that Giovannino should rule by day, and 
 Pietro by night. To effect this, the visitor 
 was to be taken the "nearest way about," which 
 the proverb shrewdly declares to be " the far- 
 thest way round." Their late arrival proved 
 the wisdom and observation of our ancestors, as 
 doubtless it would have done, had they encoun- 
 tered a lion instead of a monster of the deep. 
 Whether our suspicions be true or not, there 
 were certain preparations on the part of Pietro 
 which would have been idle and worthless by 
 day. The Colonel had just time to remai'k
 
 GLEXLONELY. "2 / D 
 
 some vivid contiscatioiis, which reminded him of 
 firing a train, when, in a moment more, the 
 cavern was faintly illuminated by rays coloured 
 like the rainbow; — anotlier moment, and the 
 cord of communication burnt more vividly, fell 
 to the ground, curling like worms of fire, and 
 the torches assumed their natural flame, in- 
 stead of that of the spirits in which they had 
 been steeped. 
 
 If guilty, the conspirators might well be 
 forgiven : the effect was magical, especially as 
 it followed so closely on the scenes of a day 
 fraught w-ith wonder and peril. The Colonel 
 rubbed his eyes, doubting if the whole were 
 not a dream, — a nightmare, the morbid ofl- 
 spring of late hours and an Italian supper. A 
 growl from Cato, at Pietro's approach, and ^' Is 
 it not splendid, my Signor?" from Giovannino, 
 made him look again, and believe that he was 
 awake. 
 
 The belief was confirmed by some crystal 
 
 drops which coldly saluted his face. If the 
 
 roof were, '* like Niobe, all tears," so also were 
 
 the weeping stalactites as white as the mourner's 
 
 X 6
 
 276 GLENLONELY. 
 
 bosom. Amidst these icicles of frozen stone 
 hung the light fern, and plants too delicate to 
 brave the winds of heaven. " Weeping is in- 
 fectious," we have heard : it certainly was so 
 here, for the leaves were glittering with a 
 thousand tears, which fell from time to time, 
 and froze upon the rock beneath. Above, 
 below, on either side, were pieces of clustered 
 spar, which, catching the light, shone like water 
 turned to diamonds. 
 
 Giovannino still led the Colonel, who, lost in 
 admiring wonder, yielded mechanically to his 
 guidance. The path they trod was raised, and 
 so chosen as to avoid the shower of tears — 
 innocent tears — unlike the tears of woman, 
 which, whether briny, pure, scalding, or cold, 
 may be seen with interest, though they are too 
 often felt with pain. The path was worthy of 
 the scene : bordered on either side with crys- 
 tallised blocks, tinged with the colours of the 
 em.erald, topaz, amethyst, and garnet, it seemed 
 to wind through streams of dancing light. Be- 
 tween those blocks were strewed spar and sta- 
 lactites, finely broken, at once dry and firm for
 
 GLENLONELY. '277 
 
 the footing, and, compared with the stars around, 
 softly and flowingly brilliant as the milky way. 
 Giovanni no continued in silence, till, on a 
 sudden turn, the line of torches ceased, and 
 through archinof rocks was seen the moon : red, 
 fiery, and preternaturally large, it seemed to 
 be rising from the cavern itself, and looked as 
 if its angry orb would close the entrance. 
 "Is it not splendid?" asked Giovannino. 
 The Colonel answered by asking himself, 
 " Can that be the moon ?" so magnificent, yet 
 unnatural, was the appearance before him. 
 
 Giovannino, however, took the answer to 
 himself; and, suppressing an arch laugh, he 
 said, " Yes, Signor : it is neither more nor less 
 than the chaste Diana." 
 
 " Umph ! " said the Colonel, at this classical 
 allusion, and glad of a joke to relieve his mind; 
 " certainly not less ; but her size is prodigiously 
 changed by a visit to earth; and, as to com- 
 plexion, she seems to have risen from the field 
 of battle ; and — what now ? Why yonder is 
 the man in the moon!" pointing to a figure 
 which appeared on the horizon, and, backed by
 
 *278 GLENLONELY. 
 
 the full moon, gave an outline of unearthly 
 proportions. 
 
 " Pietro ! Pietro !" cried Giovannino, "yonder 
 comes his excellency, my lord;" and, leaving 
 the Colonel to face the moon and its apparition, 
 he retreated to the rear. 
 
 " Murray ! " " Lindsay ! " were heard at 
 once, as the friends of boyhood hailed each 
 other with the cry of sympathy, and hastened 
 to meet. 
 
 Herbert Lindsay had been anxiously expect- 
 ing the arrival of his guest; and, having imaged a 
 thousand unsatisfactory causes for his detention, 
 he left the baronial hall, which he had paced to 
 and fro, like a sailor on the deck of his prison. 
 
 The extraordinary appearance of the moon 
 to which we have alluded, is a glorious splen- 
 dour, which, not unfrequently, heralds the 
 beauties of an Italian night. Someone — the 
 clever Matthews, or the amusing bubble-blower 
 — was so struck by the appearance, that he 
 doubted whether the sun, which had gone down 
 before his eyes, had not risen, like a diver, be- 
 hind his back. It is, indeed, like a setting sun in
 
 GLEN LONELY. '279 
 
 the Stillness of a starry night; with this sHght 
 diiference, — that the one is descending, the 
 other ascending. The moon, as witnessed by 
 the Colonel, was but little like the chaste cold 
 orb which calmly sails the spangled heavens, 
 breathing of that serenity, ' ' that peace which 
 the world cannot give : " at that moment, it was 
 seen through the vapours of earth, and the 
 clouded vision of erring man; and it stirred 
 withm the bosom but the worldly dreams of 
 grandeur and magnificence. 
 
 Nevertheless, Herbert and the Colonel — two 
 of woman born — agreed it was a beautiful 
 variety. Having watched it for some time, 
 linked arm in arm by the sympathetic cordiality 
 of long parted friends, the former turned to 
 Pietro, and asked the meaning of those twink- 
 ling lights in the entrance cavern ? 
 
 Pietro, who seemed to feel that his little 
 device looked particularly small in comparison 
 with the magnified moon, was almost ashamed 
 to confess the honours he had planned for the 
 noble guest. 
 
 The next question was addressed to the
 
 280 GLENLONELY. 
 
 Colonel, as Lindsay remarked an expression 
 of fatigue or sorrow, which had succeeded the 
 joyous animation at meeting. The awful oc- 
 currences of the day were soon recited; and 
 probably they appeared more terrific to the 
 listener's imagination than they had done to 
 the Colonel. The active struggle for self-pre- 
 servation, the passing rapidity of the scene, the 
 necessity of attending to every step across the 
 rugged path, had left little opportunity to re- 
 flect. It was not until the following day 
 that the realities of that morning haunted his 
 mind with stern and collected force. In the 
 village which had been swept away, there was 
 not a cottage, the humblest amidst the lowly, 
 unknown to Herbert : each family, each mem- 
 ber, from the helpless sire to the helpless 
 infant at the breast, were known. He had 
 acted up to that touching injunction, of living 
 as a brother amidst brethren of the same flock ; 
 of doing unto others as we would they should 
 do unto us. Instant orders were given to pre- 
 pare covering for the houseless ; baskets of 
 provisions, not forgetting the blessed spirit of
 
 GLENLONELY. 281 
 
 brandy (which we, who have erected a pump 
 in our dining-room, worship medicinally), 
 and whatever might serve for immediate suc- 
 cour. Pietro was commanded to appropriate 
 his torches to a better purpose, in the event of 
 Diana veiling herself behind a cloud. The 
 Colonel, though he could not but admire the 
 charitable equipments, regretted to hear of 
 Lindsay's intention to accompany his attend- 
 ants : he had made up his mind to that luxury 
 unrivalled, — a cosey chat with an old friend, 
 over a bottle of — water — and a blazing hearth. 
 It was in vain, however, that the Colonel ven- 
 tured to remonstrate. 
 
 " Would you," asked Herbert, " desert your 
 post when the hour of action arrives ? Would 
 you turn from the dying and wounded when 
 the battle was fought, and leave them to your 
 sergeants and corporals ? No, Georgie, you 
 would not. I, too, have received a command 
 from authority higher than the Horse Guards. 
 What are the rich but trustees to the poor ? 
 what but the channel to distribute the blessing 
 wherewith they are blessed ? Yes ; for wealth
 
 282 GLENLONELY. 
 
 is one of the greatest of earthly blessings, when 
 we do not abuse that power entrusted to our 
 hands, — the luxury of doing good. Forgive 
 niy warmth. Let us hope that to-morrow we 
 shall not enjoy ourselves the less : to-night you 
 are weary ; and you, Giovannino," he con- 
 tinued, smiling forgiveness as he spoke, " must 
 see to the comforts of my friend, and do the 
 honours of an office he seems to understand so 
 fully." 
 
 After a quick but fervent " Good night ! '* 
 and " God bless you ! " the friends again pur- 
 sued a different path, — Herbert Lindsay to- 
 wards the entrance cavern, the Colonel towards 
 the castle, under the auspicious guidance of 
 Giovannino. 
 
 Hudibras, that profound and witty reader of 
 the human heart, says that '' a man convinced 
 against his will, is of the same opinion still;" 
 and such, we are obliged to confess, was the 
 state of our gallant Colonel. Convinced he 
 was of Herbert Lindsay's rectitude ; but his 
 wishes were rebellious notwithstanding. " What 
 a thing it is to be romantic!" said he, me-
 
 GLENLONELY. 283 
 
 ditating within himself. ''Yet, touching this 
 stewardship of weaUh, there is something 
 pleasant in the notion, — better than the full- 
 pay of a general. I wonder if Fate will ever 
 confer on me this civil promotion?" and, with 
 this query, his thoughts wandered to the past 
 and future. He recalled to mind the dirty 
 acres eaten up or washed away by the Lairds 
 of Crab of [Mac Crab, and in fancy they were 
 restored to his dwindled inheritance ; the family 
 mansion was put upon its legs again ; the old hall 
 was changed to an araioury, which, if less than 
 that of the Tower of London, was much more 
 select and exclusive : the best of every device 
 for shedding the blood of man, whether result- 
 ing from the dark genius of the savage, or the 
 high and enlightened intellect of civilised 
 beings, was to be collected there ; in short, it 
 was to be complete, from the club of Cain to 
 the French fusee of Robert {qr. le diable ?), 
 which loads at the breech, and kills we know 
 not how many men in a minute. To this, it is 
 but justice to add, that a mother, revered and 
 beloved, as also his sisters, were to benefit by
 
 284 GLENLONELY. 
 
 the trusteeship. If a little vexation at Herbert's 
 departure suggested the maxim of " charity 
 beginning at home," we know the Colonel too 
 well to suppose that wealth, should his vision 
 be realised, could ever be turned to a curse, 
 by selfish and cold indifference to his fellow- 
 creatures.
 
 GLENLONELY. 285 
 
 CHAP. X. 
 
 THE CAPTAIN OF THE COLDSTREAM. 
 
 He fought like Mars descending from the skies, 
 And look'd like Venus rising from the -waves. 
 
 Dryden. 
 
 We trust that our reader is as fond of change 
 as ourselves. We are now about to request the 
 honour of his company amidst the more homely 
 realities of life ; and beg him to pass with us 
 from the high regions of romance to the flat 
 basin of clay, as geologists style the Vale of 
 Gloucester. Luckily for old England, the flood 
 which filled the said basin (dish had been a 
 better term) is to return no more; and, as the 
 avalanche and bursting lakes are rare, the inha- 
 bitants are obliged to live in peace and com- 
 fort.
 
 286 GLENLONELY. 
 
 Within the few months which had elapsed 
 since Colonel Murray's departure from Scot- 
 land, unwonted changes had occurred in that 
 part of the world. If not quite so terrific in 
 their consequences, they were scarcely less un- 
 locked for than those which he had just escaped. 
 Lord Glenlonely, the recluse, the mourner, 
 who had never stirred from home since the 
 death of his wife, had decided upon a visit to 
 that gay city of salt and scandal, the far famed 
 Saltenham. 
 
 Business, connected with his profession, had 
 obliged the Colonel to tarry in London, ere he 
 could proceed to the Continent. His morning 
 duty at the Horse Guards made him perfect in 
 the bow which dowagers claimed in the evening 
 for permission to worship their daughters. Be- 
 sides this resource, his delay was cheered by 
 fond letters from his sisters, which, like them- 
 selves, were generally in the proportion of three 
 to one — brothers are so idle ! In these he 
 learnt of a visible decline in Lord Glen- 
 lonely's health ; and, what was more interesting, 
 that Emily St. Clair appeared to be drooping
 
 GLENLONELY. 287 
 
 by the side of her guardian, whom she tended 
 with devoted affection. 
 
 The Murrays were the only neighbours who 
 stood on the footing of intimacy with Lord 
 Glenlonely; and, though his lordship rarely 
 joined their society, they were the frequent 
 companions of Emily St. Clair. 
 
 Lady Murray, the amiab'e mother of the 
 Colonel, and to whom the reader was intro- 
 duced in our first chapter, watched the declin- 
 ing health of Emily with all a mother's fears. 
 Having determined to introduce the subject to 
 Lord Glenlonely, the first opportunity, she was 
 gladly surprised that his lordship's anxiety 
 equalled her own, and to hear him express a 
 wish that the best medical advice should be ob- 
 tained. 
 
 With a delicacy of feeling which was a part 
 of his nature, he abstained from giving the 
 direct motive in sending for Dr. Playfair; and, 
 rather than alarm "his Emmy," or allude to 
 effects, of which he could not but divine the 
 cause, he made his own declining health the
 
 288 GLENLONELY. 
 
 pretext for requesting the attendance of an able 
 physician. 
 
 The result was a positive order for change of 
 scene ; and, though Lord Glenlonely anticipated 
 little benefit to his feeble constitution, he cheer- 
 fully took to himself the necessity of the mea- 
 sure, well knowing that Emily would more rea- 
 dily acquiesce in a prospect for his sake than 
 her own. 
 
 The short seasons which had introduced Miss 
 St. Clair to the admiration of the London 
 world were spent under the roof of Lady Mur- 
 ray. The same kind being now proposed to 
 join the party, with her three daughters ; and 
 we need scarcely add, how gladly Lord Glen- 
 lonely acceded to an offer which would reheve 
 him from all domestic cares, and give to Miss St. 
 Clair the change prescribed, yet leave him to 
 solitude amidst the gay. 
 
 No time was lost. Lady Murray wrote im- 
 mediately to her nephew, Captain Macgregor 
 Campbell, to ascertain whether her son, the 
 Colonel, had quitted London, and whether it 
 were true that the Captain was about to visit
 
 GLENLONELY. 289 
 
 Saltenham on leave of absence. The following 
 answer was immediately returned : — 
 
 " My dear, kind, good Aunt, 
 " Form and fashion thaw at the sight of 
 your letters — they come direct from the heart; 
 so forgive the unworldly warmth of my address. 
 My gallant boy, your truant son, left town by 
 one mail, as your inquiries approached by an- 
 other. He is your very own — almost as bad as 
 yourself — there is no resisting his winning ways. 
 No later than yesteixiay he seduced me to dine 
 at the Gloucester Coffee-house, at six o'clock, 
 on beefsteaks, one inch and a half thick, pickled 
 walnuts on one flank, piled like grenadier 
 caps — onions, like grape shot, on the other! 
 The wicked, joyous fellow ! how he laughed at 
 my dismay, and wished the pretty Countess 
 could peep in and destroy my reputation for 
 ever ! At eight he took his. seat in the Dover 
 mail ; — I am wrong — he took his place inside, and 
 his seat outside. To be dove-tailed with a lady, 
 her servant, an alderman, and child, was too 
 much after such a dinner ; and (he is incor- 
 
 VOL. 1. o
 
 •290 GLENLONELY. 
 
 rigible), to horrify me, and sport a joke on a 
 soldier's duty, he actually swallowed the grape 
 shot ! The lady was particularly civil : ' Wait 
 one moment, sir — plenty of room; allow me to 
 move this parcel, that band-box; and, Jane, 
 do take the dear child from the gentleman's 
 seat, and gather up the cakes, oranges, parasol, 
 umbrella, and toys.' You know, dear aunt, I 
 hate children, except in a picture. What did my 
 gallant boy do, but soothe the mamma, assist 
 tlie maid, kiss the little boy, and tell him to 
 sit up like a man, and take care of his place. 
 I stared: ' An officer's widow!' he whispered. 
 ' Devilish pretty, too,' answered I, loud enough 
 to raise a becoming blush, and draw a pair of 
 fine eyes upon your hopeful nephew. ' Good 
 bye, my little man,' said I, and ventured to 
 pat his hand : I could not accomplish a kiss, 
 though his cheeks were clean and healthy, as 
 well as his dear budding nose ; c'est beaucoup 
 cela -n! arrive pas toujours. Te whoo ! — te whoo ! 
 — sounded the horn: up dashed the mail cart, 
 in flumped the bags ; the guard stamped ; 
 billets doux were packed, as I do my clothes ; 
 ' All right !' and away went the Colonel, en
 
 GLEN LONELY. 291 
 
 route pour la belle ville de Paris ; whence he 
 intends to muster his words in three lines, — 
 kill three sisters and a mother at one shot. 
 
 " To return to my exquisite self. You have 
 heard rightly: I am ordered to Saltenham, more 
 thanks to our surgeon than colonel. Last 
 season was worse than a winter campaign. My 
 graceful form hjietri — ahattu. My grandfather 
 tells a story of the Tenth : we of the Coldstream 
 do, however, walk a quadrille ; and that is al- 
 most as bad as dancing. I measured my steps 
 last year, and the number of miles I won't give^ 
 lest my fair cousins cry false ; but, on the word 
 of a soldier, I w^alked out the works of my pe- 
 dometer. This season is as bad. And then, that 
 horrible Tower of London ! I have marched 
 from St. James's to the Tower-ditch, from the 
 ditch to St. James's, till my uniform is smoke- 
 dried, and the smell of the city overpowers my 
 ^igars. By the way, I hear my uncle, the Duke, is 
 to come in with the Whigs : if so, we gentlemen 
 of the Guards may hope for reform. Down 
 wqth the dirty white Tower, I say, and rebuild 
 near our mess at the Palace. 
 o 2
 
 '292 GLENLONEI.Y. 
 
 " Yes; the duty by day and night, east and 
 west, has half killed me. The day after to- 
 morrow I fly for my life. One ball in my body 
 is enough, without scores in my head. I know 
 Saltenham by heart, and have a house in my 
 thoughts, the very thing for yourself and love- 
 stricken lord. You, and my fair cousins, may 
 live as you ought, may see and be seen ; and his 
 lordship may shut himseJf up like a priest, in a 
 box or confessional ; or, as he will, pop out his 
 head and see all the w^orld. Love to your dear 
 saucy daughters, and believe me, 
 
 " Your affectionate, rattle-brain, 
 but dutiful, Nephew, 
 " Augustus Macregor Campbell." 
 
 " P. S. You shall hear the moment I have 
 arranged : as I know the base question of money 
 is no object with Glenlonely, trust to my doing 
 things as they ought. He shall be lodged en 
 'prince^ and play solitaire with majestic majesty. 
 Adieu." 
 
 Such was the rattling epistle penned by the
 
 GLENLONELY. 293 
 
 dashing young officer ; whom, as he is about to 
 join the party, we will briefly describe : — 
 
 Augustus Macgregor Campbell was one of 
 the younger sons of Lord John Campbell, bro- 
 ther to the Duke of Dunbar. His Grace was 
 blessed with a large family, and cursed by a 
 small income. Lord John rivalled his brother 
 in the former, and outstripped him in the lat- 
 ter; though, as having less state to support, 
 there was not that actual difference which mi^ht 
 have been inferred fi'om the smaller sum total 
 of pounds. 
 
 If one must starve, it is well to do so like a 
 gentleman ; for this purpose the armv is an ad- 
 mirable resource : consequently, a little host of 
 the Campbell clan bore arms for their king and 
 country, to say nothing of their patrician 
 selves. 
 
 Augustus Macgregor was presented with a 
 commission in the Coldstream. Though slight, 
 graceful, and almost feminine in his beauty, he 
 had endured fatigues under which many a 
 stouter man had fallen; and, in the hour of 
 danger, he was the first amidst the brave. It 
 o 3
 
 *294 GLENLONELY. 
 
 may be, the goddess of war, touched by the 
 youth and delicacy of her admirer, did all in 
 her power to shield him, in hopes the most for- 
 lorn, in storming the most darino^. One in- 
 Stance is on record, where Campbell, advancing 
 through a hail storm of bullets, and mounting 
 first on the scaling ladder, was saluted by a 
 French bayonet through his arm, while a mus- 
 ket was presented to his head. It flashed in the 
 pan ; and its bearer, thinking the but might be 
 more effectual than the muzzle, aimed a blow, 
 which sent the leader from the top of the lad- 
 der to the bottom of the fosse. There he slup^- 
 bered till the effect of the opiate passed ; and 
 he awoke in time to remount the ladder, amidst 
 the cheers of those whom he had led to victory. 
 Though his life had been saved, the shield of 
 the goddess had not quite protected his limbs : 
 besides wounds, there was still a French sou- 
 venir, in the shape of a ball, which he carried 
 in his person, much against his inclination. 
 
 Having the entree to the best society in Lon- 
 don, and being an universal favourite with 
 womankind, he was somewhat spoiled, and af-
 
 GLENLOXELY. '295 
 
 fected an eiFeminacy more suited to the soft 
 beauty of his features than his character in 
 service. Clever, quick, playful, and satirical, 
 yet kind-hearted withal, he rarely made an 
 enemy, though he still more rarely checked the 
 sallies of his wit and fancy. 
 
 At the time we are writing of Saltenham, it 
 might well be termed the city of villas. Even 
 in the finest squares, the same system of de- 
 tached houses was pursued. Each was sur- 
 rounded by its lawn, its shrubbery, and flower 
 beds; and, independent of the principal en- 
 trance, each was approached, in the rear, by a 
 lane, which admitted the plebeian wants of 
 proud man. If, as we have heard, this charac- 
 ter has, in some degree, been destroyed, by 
 continued houses, magnificent and imposing, 
 we sincerely hope that this sterner beauty has 
 been tempered by the plantations, drives, and 
 boulevards, which made it unlike, and supe- 
 rior to, all other cities, devoted to health and 
 amusement ; half foreign in external charms, 
 but quite English in the luxuries of domestic 
 comfort. 
 
 o 4
 
 296 GLENLONELY. 
 
 Some three weeks after Lady Murray had 
 received the first letter from her nephew, in a 
 walk, shaded by a double row of trees, in the 
 bloom and freshness of spring, and facing one 
 of the best, yet most sequestered, houses which 
 Saltenham could boast of in those days, was a 
 remarkably handsome, well-dressed, yet military 
 looking man. " Nothing wonderful in that," 
 some critic may exclaim : the remark might be 
 spared ; for, be the reason what it may, the city 
 of Saltenham is proverbially wanting in young 
 men whose breeding and manner stamp the 
 gentleman. Moreover, the few, who may lay 
 claim to such distinction, are rarely allowed to 
 " waste their sweets on desert air ; " and still 
 more rarely does an officer, out of uniform, 
 know how to dress like a gentleman, any more 
 than a deputy-lieutenant, in uniform, knows 
 how to look like a soldier. 
 
 The Household troops form an exception to 
 this general rule : their frequent residence in 
 the capital, where the uniform is thrown off with 
 their duty, makes them amphibious in this im- 
 portant matter; and, having said thus much.
 
 GLENLOXELY. 297 
 
 we need scarcely inform the reader, that Cap- 
 tain Augustus Macgregor Campbell was the man 
 alluded to. 
 
 For some time he repaced a given distance 
 with the resignation of a centinel ; but the hour 
 having elapsed when he expected to be relieved, 
 various symptoms of impatience were betrayed. 
 One moment he halted, and, looking at a watch 
 scarcely larger than a shilling, frowned at the 
 hand which all but pointed to five o'clock ; the 
 next, his bright blue eyes glanced right and 
 left, in vain. The march was resumed, and 
 many an innocent flower, which decked the 
 walk, was gathered by a hand unconscious of 
 the act, and regardless of its charms, which 
 were flung aside, to be replaced by others. 
 
 At length the sound of wheels, and trampling 
 of horses, announced an arrival. One, two, 
 three, carriages, with three times four horses, 
 appeared in succession, as they swept round a 
 corner, some distance from the Captain's posi- 
 tion. The pride of armorial bearings, if any 
 there wore, was modestly veiled by a coat of 
 mud : still there was an air in the very style of 
 o 5
 
 298 GLENLONELY. 
 
 the splashes; they bore witness to the rate of tra- 
 velling, and proved — at least, in the postboy's 
 opinion — there was some great or rich person 
 within. Without, there was certainly the former. 
 The carriage in ad vance,of dimensions more than 
 usually capacious, instead of a dicky behind, 
 was fitted with a coach-box, in proportion to the 
 size and comfort of the body ; and hereon was 
 seated no less a personage than John Moggeridge 
 himself: a slight female figure, a grand-daugh- 
 ter in the service of Miss St. Clair, had nestled 
 by his side, very much like a chick under the 
 wings of its parent. From beneath a tartan 
 cap, streamed a profusion of silvered locks; and 
 the graceful plaid, which partially concealed the 
 limbs, added to the outline of his figure. There 
 was no mistaking the man. The Captain 
 crossed the road, and stood by the gate to which 
 he directed the driver's attention. In a few 
 minutes he received a nod of intelligence, and 
 retreated to the portico, under which the guests 
 were to alight. The Captain practised as little 
 form in action as in writing, when his kind 
 aunt was addressed: scarcely allowing the ser-
 
 GLENLONELY. 299 
 
 vant to open the carriage door, he warmly wel- 
 comed the travellers. 
 
 " My dear aunt," he exclaimed, grasping 
 her hand with a most masculine fervour ; " I 
 thought you were lost, or my letter at least. 
 Mounted guard these two hours ! And how are 
 you ? — and how's Ciss, and Lizzy, and Helen ? and 
 how " And here he checked these rapid in- 
 quiries, which were poured forth while sundry 
 cloaks, furs, and shawls were removed, and gave 
 a more perfect view of a face which, though 
 smiling at the warm volubility of the Captain, 
 wore an expression so sad, gentle, and beautiful, 
 that the current of his words was arrested by a 
 charm, silent, yet strong, as the waving of a 
 magic wand. 
 
 " Miss St. Clair, if I mistake not ? " said 
 the Captain in an altered tone, accompanied by 
 a graceful inclination. " I fear you have suf- 
 fered from fatigue. Pray forgive the noisy greet- 
 ing to my aunt, and allow me to offer the sup- 
 port of an arm." 
 
 Emily answered with a smile more eloquent 
 than words ; and Lady Murray said, " Well,
 
 300 GLENLONELY. 
 
 Augustus, I am glad you give me the oppor- 
 tunity of returning your welcome ; and, if your 
 lips would but repeat the offer I have heard so 
 often on the road — ' Her ladyship would be 
 pleased to unlight,' — still more pleased to re- 
 sign your hand to Miss St. Clair. You forget 
 that the ring on one finger is not meant to be 
 imbedded in its neighbours." 
 
 The Captain made his apologies as he handed 
 his aunt from the carriage ; and she revenged 
 her sufferings by scanning his fair face and 
 golden hair, and asking, " Why need a gentle 
 hero affect such iron nerves?" 
 
 The attack was parried by asking for his 
 lordship. " Did you not see him?" said Lady 
 Murray ; "he was sitting on my right." 
 
 " No, indeed," answered the Captain, " I 
 fear I scarcely looked beyond yourself;" making 
 a second apologetic bow to Miss St. Clair, who 
 was leaning on one arm. " Besides, my dear 
 aunt, who would have dreamt of finding Glen- 
 lonely there ? I thought he always travelled 
 in a trunk, or, at least, had a carriage to him- 
 self."
 
 GLENLONELY. 301 
 
 " He is now too ill to be alone," said Miss 
 St. Claii-, in a tone which bespoke her interest, 
 and reproved the thoughtless fancy of young 
 Campbell. 
 
 He felt it in an instant, and, having intro- 
 duced his charge to the welcome of a blazing 
 fire, he expressed his intention of assisting the 
 invalid. 
 
 " Strong as your grasp is," said Lady Mur- 
 ray, looking at the impression left on her deli- 
 cate fingers, " his lordship is in better hands 
 than yours, or we should not have left him so 
 obediently." 
 
 Notwithstanding this assurance, the Captain 
 hurried out to offer his assistance, or make his 
 approaches to the cousins, whom he had only 
 been able to reconnoitre at a distance. 
 
 As Campbell hastened through the entrance 
 hall, Lady Murray's words were more fully ac- 
 complished than he had anticipated. Wrapped 
 in the folds of a sable cloak. Lord Glenlonely 
 was borne in the arms of John Moggeridge, 
 who carried his revered lord as if age had 
 not stolen from the power of his muscles.
 
 302 GLENLONELY. 
 
 Tlie Captain drew on one side, and saluted in 
 silence ; but Lord Glenlonely seemed too ex- 
 hausted, and Moggeridge too intent on his 
 charge, to notice the compliment. The first 
 carriage was ordered to the rear, the second to 
 advance ; and a joyous greeting it was between 
 the cousins. Here was no reproach for a hearty 
 welcome; and, if "Cissy's" hand were pressed 
 somewhat more fervently than the others, we 
 presume that she wore no ring ; for she certainly 
 did not cry out for quarter. A short time 
 elapsed ere they joined their mother ; but it 
 was long enough to allow the Captain to whisper 
 in his cousin's ear, " Cissy, since it is the fashion 
 for men to play nurse, and carry the sick, I wish 
 you w^ere ill." 
 
 " You little monster of iniquity," answered 
 Ciss ; and smiling archly from a pair of eyes 
 which would have been a fortune to a gypsey ; 
 " you would have fainted in the trial." 
 
 " Ah ! " said Helen, who had caught her 
 sister's reply, " at war already ! a truce till to- 
 morrow, I pray you." 
 
 " For half an hour," said the hero, as he
 
 GLEN LONELY. 303 
 
 lieard the first dinner bell ; " and then, cousin, 
 war to the knife ! " 
 
 " Agreed, most mighty Mac," retorted Ciss, 
 " on one condition : fly my presence, and dis- 
 embark my pet animals from the Glenlonely ark 
 on four wheels." 
 
 The Captain, ever ready to oblige, and not 
 the less so when his cousin Ciss gave the word, 
 turned to obey ; saying, " I fly, and so shall 
 the prisoners and captives, if I find any cages ; 
 you know — I love liberty" — he was about to 
 add, but Cissy cut off his conclusion ; and, 
 frowning as sternly as her playful eyes would 
 admit, " at your peril," she cried, " dare to 
 think of an escape." 
 
 By the time that Augustus Macgregor Camp- 
 bell, or. to use his cousin's happy abbreviation, 
 when " Mac " arrived at the hall door, an im- 
 mense old family carriage, alias the ark, was 
 unloading. Moggeridge, an old ally of the young 
 officer, was in the act of unlocking a large boot 
 behind, from which leapt a splendid Newfound- 
 land dog. '' Ah, Lion ! " he said, " are you 
 one of the parlour pets ? "
 
 304 GLENLONELY. 
 
 " No," answered Moggeridge, who turned 
 to receive the Captain's hearty shake of the 
 hand, which he returned with interest ; " No," 
 he repeated in a lower tone, " that noble fellow 
 is Miss St. Clair's, and was my dear young 
 lord's." 
 
 " And, therefore, I suppose, you contrived 
 this capital berth for old Lion." 
 
 " No bad plan, either," said Moggeridge. 
 " Only yesterday, at dusk, some stragglers 
 thought to pillage our baggage, and, coming up 
 with the rear, they picked the lock. One un- 
 lucky rascal, thinking, no doubt, to snatch a fur 
 cloak, put his hand in the boot, when Lion 
 sprang forward, and seized the thief by the 
 throat. We were too much amused to be an- 
 gry : so I released the prisoner ; and, boxing one 
 ear, which laid him flat in the mud, I hallooed 
 in the other, ' Keep your hands from picking 
 and stealing.' " 
 
 The Captain laughed at this well-timed ap- 
 plication of the catechism ; and, to save his cre- 
 dit, hastened to the carriage whence w^as issuing 
 a stream of animals, on two or four legs, of all
 
 GLEXLONELY. 305 
 
 sorts and sizes, from femmes de chamhres down 
 to a tame magpie ; which latter, as the Captain 
 unwisely handled the cage, bit his finger, and 
 then said, "How do you do, Mac?" Whe- 
 ther Cissy had stood godmamma, and taught 
 it the vulgar tongue, we do not know. All 
 were safely landed; and) for the present, we 
 leave the dogs to stretch their legs, the birds to 
 shake their wrings, and the ladies to the luxury 
 of the toilet. 
 
 END OF THE FIRST VOLU.ME.
 
 LosiJu.\ : 
 
 Printed by A. Spottiswoode, 
 
 New-Street-Sqiiare,

 
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