INTRODUCTORY.

THE other day, in looking over my papers, I found in my desk thefollowing copy of a letter, sent by me a year since to an oldschool acquaintance:--

"DEAR CHARLES,"I think when you and I were at Eton together, we were neither ofus what could be called popular characters: you were asarcastic, observant, shrewd, cold-blooded creature; my ownportrait I will not attempt to draw, but I cannot recollect thatit was a strikingly attractive one--can you? What animalmagnetism drew thee and me together I know not; certainly I neverexperienced anything of the Pylades and Orestes sentiment foryou, and I have reason to believe that you, on your part, wereequally free from all romantic regard to me. Still, out ofschool hours we walked and talked continually together; when thetheme of conversation was our companions or our masters weunderstood each other, and when I recurred to some sentiment ofaffection, some vague love of an excellent or beautiful object,whether in animate or inanimate nature, your sardonic coldnessdid not move me. I felt myself superior to that check THEN as Ido NOW.

"It is a long time since I wrote to you, and a still longer timesince I saw you. Chancing to take up a newspaper of your countythe other day, my eye fell upon your name. I began to think ofold times; to run over the events which have transpired since weseparated; and I sat down and commenced this letter. What youhave been doing I know not; but you shall hear, if you choose tolisten, how the world has wagged with me.

"First, after leaving Eton, I had an interview with my maternaluncles, Lord Tynedale and the Hon. John Seacombe. They asked meif I would enter the Church, and my uncle the nobleman offered methe living of Seacombe, which is in his gift, if I would; then myother uncle, Mr. Seacombe, hinted that when I became rector ofSeacombe-cum-Scaife, I might perhaps be allowed to take, asmistress of my house and head of my parish, one of my sixcousins, his daughters, all of whom I greatly dislike.

"I declined both the Church and matrimony. A good clergyman is agood thing, but I should have made a very bad one. As to thewife--oh how like a night-mare is the thought of being bound forlife to one of my cousins! No doubt they are accomplished andpretty; but not an accomplishment, not a charm of theirs,touches a chord in my bosom. To think of passing the winterevenings by the parlour fire-side of Seacombe Rectory alone withone of them--for instance, the large and well-modelled statue,Sarah--no; I should be a bad husband, under such circumstances,as well as a bad clergyman.

"When I had declined my uncles' offers they asked me 'what Iintended to do?' I said I should reflect. They reminded me thatI had no fortune, and no expectation of any, and, after aconsiderable pause, Lord Tynedale demanded sternly, 'Whether Ihad thoughts of following my father's steps and engaging intrade?' Now, I had had no thoughts of the sort. I do not thinkthat my turn of mind qualifies me to make a good tradesman; mytaste, my ambition does not lie in that way; but such was thescorn expressed in Lord Tynedale's countenance as he pronouncedthe word TRADE--such the contemptuous sarcasm of his tone--that Iwas instantly decided. My father was but a name to me, yet thatname I did not like to hear mentioned with a sneer to my veryface. I answered then, with haste and warmth, 'I cannot dobetter than follow in my father's steps; yes, I will be atradesman.' My uncles did not remonstrate; they and I partedwith mutual disgust. In reviewing this transaction, I find thatI was quite right to shake off the burden of Tynedale'spatronage, but a fool to offer my shoulders instantly for thereception of another burden--one which might be more intolerable,and which certainly was yet untried.

"I wrote instantly to Edward--you know Edward--my only brother,ten years my senior, married to a rich mill-owner's daughter, andnow possessor of the mill and business which was my father'sbefore he failed. You are aware that my father-once reckoned aCroesus of wealth--became bankrupt a short time previous to hisdeath, and that my mother lived in destitution for some sixmonths after him, unhelped by her aristocratical brothers, whomshe had mortally offended by her union with Crimsworth, the----shire manufacturer. At the end of the six months she broughtme into the world, and then herself left it without, I shouldthink, much regret, as it contained little hope or comfort forher.

"My father's relations took charge of Edward, as they did of me,till I was nine years old. At that period it chanced that therepresentation of an important borough in our county fell vacant;Mr. Seacombe stood for it. My uncle Crimsworth, an astutemercantile man, took the opportunity of writing a fierce letterto the candidate, stating that if he and Lord Tynedale did notconsent to do something towards the support of their sister'sorphan children, he would expose their relentless and malignantconduct towards that sister, and do his best to turn thecircumstances against Mr. Seacombe's election. That gentlemanand Lord T. knew well enough that the Crimsworths were anunscrupulous and determined race; they knew also that they hadinfluence in the borough of X----; and, making a virtue ofnecessity, they consented to defray the expenses of my education.I was sent to Eton, where I remained ten years, during whichspace of time Edward and I never met. He, when he grew up,entered into trade, and pursued his calling with such diligence,ability, and success, that now, in his thirtieth year, he wasfast making a fortune. Of this I was apprised by the occasionalshort letters I received from him, some three or four times ayear; which said letters never concluded without some expressionof determined enmity against the house of Seacombe, and somereproach to me for living, as he said, on the bounty of thathouse. At first, while still in boyhood, I could not understandwhy, as I had no parents, I should not be indebted to my unclesTynedale and Seacombe for my education; but as I grew up, andheard by degrees of the persevering hostility, the hatred tilldeath evinced by them against my father--of the sufferings of mymother--of all the wrongs, in short, of our house--then did Iconceive shame of the dependence in which I lived, and form aresolution no more to take bread from hands which had refused tominister to the necessities of my dying mother. It was by thesefeelings I was influenced when I refused the Rectory ofSeacombe, and the union with one of my patrician cousins.

"An irreparable breach thus being effected between my uncles andmyself, I wrote to Edward; told him what had occurred, andinformed him of my intention to follow his steps and be atradesman. I asked, moreover, if he could give me employment.His answer expressed no approbation of my conduct, but he said Imight come down to ----shire, if I liked, and he would 'see whatcould be done in the way of furnishing me with work.' Irepressed all--even mental comment on his note--packed my trunkand carpet-bag, and started for the North directly.

"After two days' travelling (railroads were not then inexistence) I arrived, one wet October afternoon, in the town ofX----. I had always understood that Edward lived in this town,but on inquiry I found that it was only Mr. Crimsworth's mill andwarehouse which were situated in the smoky atmosphere of BigbenClose; his RESIDENCE lay four miles out, in the country.

"It was late in the evening when I alighted at the gates of thehabitation designated to me as my brother's. As I advanced upthe avenue, I could see through the shades of twilight, and thedark gloomy mists which deepened those shades, that the house waslarge, and the grounds surrounding it sufficiently spacious. Ipaused a moment on the lawn in front, and leaning my back againsta tall tree which rose in the centre, I gazed with interest onthe exterior of Crimsworth Hall.

"Edward is rich," thought I to myself. 'I believed him to bedoing well--but I did not know he was master of a mansion likethis.' Cutting short all marvelling; speculation, conjecture,&c., I advanced to the front door and rang. A man-servant openedit--I announced myself--he relieved me of my wet cloak andcarpet-bag, and ushered me into a room furnished as a library,where there was a bright fire and candles burning on the table;he informed me that his master was not yet returned from X----market, but that he would certainly be at home in the course ofhalf an hour.

"Being left to myself, I took the stuffed easy chair, coveredwith red morocco, which stood by the fireside, and while my eyeswatched the flames dart from the glowing coals, and the cindersfall at intervals on the hearth, my mind busied itself inconjectures concerning the meeting about to take place. Amidstmuch that was doubtful in the subject of these conjectures, therewas one thing tolerably certain--I was in no danger ofencountering severe disappointment; from this, the moderation ofmy expectations guaranteed me. I anticipated no overflowings offraternal tenderness; Edward's letters had always been such as toprevent the engendering or harbouring of delusions of this sort.Still, as I sat awaiting his arrival, I felt eager--very eager--Icannot tell you why; my hand, so utterly a stranger to the graspof a kindred hand, clenched itself to repress the tremor withwhich impatience would fain have shaken it.

"I thought of my uncles; and as I was engaged in wonderingwhether Edward's indifference would equal the cold disdain I hadalways experienced from them, I heard the avenue gates open:wheels approached the house; Mr. Crimsworth was arrived; andafter the lapse of some minutes, and a brief dialogue betweenhimself and his servant in the hall, his tread drew near thelibrary door--that tread alone announced the master of the house.

"I still retained some confused recollection of Edward as he wasten years ago--a tall, wiry, raw youth; NOW, as I rose from myseat and turned towards the library door, I saw a fine-lookingand powerful man, light-complexioned, well-made, and of athleticproportions; the first glance made me aware of an air ofpromptitude and sharpness, shown as well in his movements as inhis port, his eye, and the general expression of his face. Hegreeted me with brevity, and, in the moment of shaking hands,scanned me from head to foot; he took his seat in the moroccocovered arm-chair, and motioned me to another sent.

"'I expected you would have called at the counting-house in theClose,' said he; and his voice, I noticed, had an abrupt accent,probably habitual to him; he spoke also with a guttural northerntone, which sounded harsh in my ears, accustomed to the silveryutterance of the South.

"'The landlord of the inn, where the coach stopped, directed mehere,' said I. 'I doubted at first the accuracy of hisinformation, not being aware that you had such a residence asthis.'

"'Oh, it is all right!' he replied, 'only I was kept half an hourbehind time, waiting for you--that is all. I thought you mustbe coming by the eight o'clock coach.'

"I expressed regret that he had had to wait; he made no answer,but stirred the fire, as if to cover a movement of impatience;then he scanned me again.

"I felt an inward satisfaction that I had not, in the firstmoment of meeting, betrayed any warmth, any enthusiasm; that Ihad saluted this man with a quiet and steady phlegm.

"'Have you quite broken with Tynedale and Seacombe?' he askedhastily.

"'I do not think I shall have any further communication withthem; my refusal of their proposals will, I fancy, operate as abarrier against all future intercourse.'

"'Why,' said he, 'I may as well remind you at the very outset ofour connection, that "no man can serve two masters."Acquaintance with Lord Tynedale will be incompatible withassistance from me.' There was a kind of gratuitous menace inhis eye as he looked at me in finishing this observation.

"Feeling no disposition to reply to him, I contented myself withan inward speculation on the differences which exist in theconstitution of men's minds. I do not know what inference Mr.Crimsworth drew from my silence--whether he considered it asymptom of contumacity or an evidence of my being cowed by hisperemptory manner. After a long and hard stare at me, he rosesharply from his seat.

"'To-morrow,' said he, 'I shall call your attention to someother points; but now it is supper time, and Mrs. Crimsworth isprobably waiting; will you come?'

"He strode from the room, and I followed. In crossing the hall,I wondered what Mrs. Crimsworth might be. 'Is she,' thought I,'as alien to what I like as Tynedale, Seacombe, the MissesSeacombe--as the affectionate relative now striding before me? oris she better than these? Shall I, in conversing with her, feelfree to show something of my real nature; or --' Furtherconjectures were arrested by my entrance into the dining-room.

"A lamp, burning under a shade of ground-glass, showed a handsomeapartment, wainscoted with oak; supper was laid on the table; bythe fire-place, standing as if waiting our entrance, appeared alady; she was young, tall, and well shaped; her dress washandsome and fashionable: so much my first glance sufficed toascertain. A gay salutation passed between her and Mr.Crimsworth; she chid him, half playfully, half poutingly, forbeing late; her voice (I always take voices into the account injudging of character) was lively--it indicated, I thought, goodanimal spirits. Mr. Crimsworth soon checked her animatedscolding with a kiss--a kiss that still told of the bridegroom(they had not yet been married a year); she took her seat at thesupper-table in first-rate spirits. Perceiving me, she begged mypardon for not noticing me before, and then shook hands with me,as ladies do when a flow of good-humour disposes them to becheerful to all, even the most indifferent of their acquaintance.It was now further obvious to me that she had a good complexion,and features sufficiently marked but agreeable; her hair was red--quite red. She and Edward talked much, always in a vein ofplayful contention; she was vexed, or pretended to be vexed, thathe had that day driven a vicious horse in the gig, and he madelight of her fears. Sometimes she appealed to me.

"'Now, Mr. William, isn't it absurd in Edward to talk so? He sayshe will drive Jack, and no other horse, and the brute has thrownhim twice already.

"She spoke with a kind of lisp, not disagreeable, but childish.I soon saw also that there was more than girlish--a somewhatinfantine expression in her by no means small features; this lispand expression were, I have no doubt, a charm in Edward's eyes,and would be so to those: of most men, but they were not tomine. I sought her eye, desirous to read there the intelligencewhich I could not discern in her face or hear in herconversation; it was merry, rather small; by turns I sawvivacity, vanity, coquetry, look out through its irid, but Iwatched in vain for a glimpse of soul. I am no Oriental; whitenecks, carmine lips and cheeks, clusters of bright curls, do notsuffice for me without that Promethean spark which will liveafter the roses and lilies are faded, the burnished hair growngrey. In sunshine, in prosperity, the flowers are very well; buthow many wet days are there in life--November seasons ofdisaster, when a man's hearth and home would be cold indeed,without the clear, cheering gleam of intellect.

"Having perused the fair page of Mrs. Crimsworth's face, a deep,involuntary sigh announced my disappointment; she took it as ahomage to her beauty, and Edward, who was evidently proud of hisrich and handsome young wife, threw on me a glance--halfridicule, half ire.

"I turned from them both, and gazing wearily round the room, Isaw two pictures set in the oak panelling--one on each side themantel-piece. Ceasing to take part in the bantering conversationthat flowed on between Mr. and Mrs. Crimsworth, I bent mythoughts to the examination of these pictures. They wereportraits--a lady and a gentleman, both costumed in the fashionof twenty years ago. The gentleman was in the shade. I couldnot see him well. The lady had the benefit of a full beam fromthe softly shaded lamp. I presently recognised her; I had seenthis picture before in childhood; it was my mother; that and thecompanion picture being the only heir-looms saved out of the saleof my father's property.

"The face, I remembered, had pleased me as a boy, but then I didnot understand it; now I knew how rare that class of face is inthe world, and I appreciated keenly its thoughtful, yet gentleexpression. The serious grey eye possessed for me a strongcharm, as did certain lines in the features indicative of mosttrue and tender feeling. I was sorry it was only a picture.

"I soon left Mr. and Mrs. Crimsworth to themselves; a servantconducted me to my bed-room; in closing my chamber-door, I shutout all intruders--you, Charles, as well as the rest.

"Good-bye for the present,"WILLIAM CRIMSWORTH."

To this letter I never got an answer; before my old friendreceived it, he had accepted a Government appointment in one ofthe colonies, and was already on his way to the scene of hisofficial labours. What has become of him since, I know not.

The leisure time I have at command, and which I intended toemploy for his private benefit, I shall now dedicate to that ofthe public at large. My narrative is not exciting, and aboveall, not marvellous; but it may interest some individuals, who,having toiled in the same vocation as myself, will find in myexperience frequent reflections of their own. The above letterwill serve as an introduction. I now proceed.