"And be it mine to muse there, cheap nike shoes to glide
From day-break when the mountain pales his fire,
Yet more and more, and from the mountain top,
Till then invisible, a smoke ascends,
Solemn and slow."
"Vedi Napoli! e poi muori!"
Memory!
beloved memory! to us thou art as hope to other cheap
jerseys. The
present--solitary, unexciting--where are its charms? The future hath no
joys in store for us; and may bereave us of some of the few faint
pleasures that still are ours.
What then is left us--old before our time--but to banquet on the past?
Memory!
thou art in us, as the basil of the enamoured Florentine. [Footnote 1:
See Keats' poem taken from Boccaccio.] Thy blossoms, thy leaves,--green,
fresh, and fragrant,--draw their nurture, receive their every
colouring, from what was dearest to us on earth. And are they not
watered by our coach outlet online?
The poet tells us--
"Nessun maggior dolore
Che ricordarsi del tempo felice
Nella miseria."
But
it is not so. Where is he of the tribe of the unfortunate, who would
not gladly barter the contemplation of present wretchedness, for the
remembrance, clogged as it is by a thousand woes, of a time when joyous
visions flitted across life's path?
Yes! though the contrast, the succeeding moment, should cut him to the soul.
But
"Joy's recollection is no longer joy,
Whilst sorrow's memory is a sorrow still."
Ah! there's the rub! yet, better to think it was joy, than gaze unveiled on the cold reality around; than view the wreck--the grievous wreck--a few short years have made.
We
care not,--and, alas! to such as we have in our mind's eye, these are
the only cases allowed,--we care not! whether rapture has been succeeded
by apathy, or whether the feelings continue as deeply enlisted--the
thoughts as intensely concentrated;--but--in the servitude of despair!
And
again we say--gentle memory! let us dream over our past joys! ay! and
brood over our sorrows--undeserved--as in this hour of solitude, we may
justly deem them.
Yes! let us again live over our days of
suffering, and deem it wiser to steep our soul in tears, than let it
freeze with an iced coating of michael
kors outlet.
And shall adversity--that touchstone--softened as our hearts shall thus be--shall it pass over us, and improve us not?
No! it has purifying and cleansing qualities; and for us, it has them not in vain.
We
are not dust, to be more defiled by michael
kors outlet store; nor are we as the turbid
stream, which passing over driven snow, becomes more impure by the close
contact.
Thee, Mnemosyne! let us still adore; content rather to
droop, fade, and die--martyrs to thee! than linger on as beasts of the
forest, that know thee not. No hope may be ours to animate the future:
let us still cling to thee, though thine influence sadden the past.
Away! we are on the placid sea! and Naples lies before us.
The
sun had just risen from ocean's bed, attired in his robe of gold; as
our travellers watched from the deck of their Sparonara, to catch the
first view of the "garden of the world," as the Neapolitans fondly style
their michael
kors outlet online,
A dim haze was abroad, the mists were slowly
stealing up the mountains, as their vessel glided on; a light breeze
anon filling its canvas, then dying away, and leaving the sails to flap
against the loosened cordage.
2012年10月8日星期一
2012年9月28日星期五
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Lovest thou music? hast loved? or been beloved? or both perchance?
Steal forth when night holds her starry court, and the guitars around are tinkling, as more than one rich voice deplores his mistress's cruelty, in hopes she may now relent. But see! there is one, who puts in requisition neither music's spell, nor flattery's lay.
See! he approaches. His cloak wrapped around him, he cautiously treads the tranquil street.
He gains the portico--the signal is given. Who but an expectant maiden could hear one so slight?
Hark! a sound! cautiously the lattice opens--above him blushes the fair one! How brightly her dark eye flashes! how silver soft the tones of her voice!
The stern father--the querulous mother--the tricked duenna--all--all are slumbering. She leans forward, and her ear drinks in his honied words; as her head is supported by her snowy arm.
And now he whispers more passionately. She answers not, but hides her face in her hands. She starts! she throws back her hair from her brow; she waves a white fazzolet, and is gone.
Not thus flies the lover. He crouches beneath the Ionic portico, his figure hardly discernible. A bolt--the last bolt is withdrawn. A form is dimly seen within--retiring, timid, repentant.
Sweet the task to calm that throbbing heart, or teach it to throb no more with fear!
But let him of melancholy mood, wander to the deserted village. A more fearful calamity has befallen it, than ever attended the soft shades, of the one conjured up by the poet.
Here the demon Plague, with baneful wing, and pestilential influence, tarried for many days; till not one--no! not one soul of that village train--that did not join his bygone fathers.
Stray along its grass-grown roofless tenements! where your echo alone breaks the silence, as it startles from its resting-place the slumbering owl--for who would dwell in abodes so marked for destruction? Stray there! think of the gentle contadina diffusing happiness around her! then think of her as she supports the youth she loves--as she clasps his faint form--and drinks in a poisonous contagion from his pallid lip.
Think of her as the disease seizes on its new victim--still attempting to prop up his head--to reach the cup, that may relieve his maddening thirst,--until, giddy and overpowered, she sinks at last; but--beside him!
Think of their dying together! that at least is a solace.
Do not the scene and the thought draw a tear?
Steal forth when night holds her starry court, and the guitars around are tinkling, as more than one rich voice deplores his mistress's cruelty, in hopes she may now relent. But see! there is one, who puts in requisition neither music's spell, nor flattery's lay.
See! he approaches. His cloak wrapped around him, he cautiously treads the tranquil street.
He gains the portico--the signal is given. Who but an expectant maiden could hear one so slight?
Hark! a sound! cautiously the lattice opens--above him blushes the fair one! How brightly her dark eye flashes! how silver soft the tones of her voice!
The stern father--the querulous mother--the tricked duenna--all--all are slumbering. She leans forward, and her ear drinks in his honied words; as her head is supported by her snowy arm.
And now he whispers more passionately. She answers not, but hides her face in her hands. She starts! she throws back her hair from her brow; she waves a white fazzolet, and is gone.
Not thus flies the lover. He crouches beneath the Ionic portico, his figure hardly discernible. A bolt--the last bolt is withdrawn. A form is dimly seen within--retiring, timid, repentant.
Sweet the task to calm that throbbing heart, or teach it to throb no more with fear!
But let him of melancholy mood, wander to the deserted village. A more fearful calamity has befallen it, than ever attended the soft shades, of the one conjured up by the poet.
Here the demon Plague, with baneful wing, and pestilential influence, tarried for many days; till not one--no! not one soul of that village train--that did not join his bygone fathers.
Stray along its grass-grown roofless tenements! where your echo alone breaks the silence, as it startles from its resting-place the slumbering owl--for who would dwell in abodes so marked for destruction? Stray there! think of the gentle contadina diffusing happiness around her! then think of her as she supports the youth she loves--as she clasps his faint form--and drinks in a poisonous contagion from his pallid lip.
Think of her as the disease seizes on its new victim--still attempting to prop up his head--to reach the cup, that may relieve his maddening thirst,--until, giddy and overpowered, she sinks at last; but--beside him!
Think of their dying together! that at least is a solace.
Do not the scene and the thought draw a tear?
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We often hear Malta abused. Byron is the stale authority; and every snub-nosed cynic turns up his prominent organ, and talks of "sirocco, sun, and sweat." Byron disliked it--he had cause. He was there at a bad season, and was suffering from an attack of bile. We know of no place abroad, where the English eye will meet with so little to offend it, and so much to please and impress.
There is such a blending together of European, Asiatic, and African customs; there is such a variety in the costumes one meets; there is such grandeur in their palaces--such glory in their annals; such novelty in their manners and habits; such devotion in their religious observances; such simplicity and yet such beauty, in the dress of the women; and their wearers possess such fascinations; that we defy the most fastidious of critics, who has really resided there, to deny to Malta many of those attributes, with which he would invest that place, on whose beauty and agremens, he may prefer of all others to descant.
With the commonplace observer, its superb harbour, studded with gilded boats; its powerful fortifications, where art towers over nature, and where the eye looks up a rock, and catches a bristling battery; the glare of its scenery, with no foliage to cover the white stone;--all these, together with the different way in which the minutiae of life are transacted,--will call forth his attention, and demand his notice.
Art thou a poet, or a fancied warrior? What scene has been more replete with noble exploits? In whose breasts did the flame of chivalry burn brighter, than in those of the knights of St. John of Jerusalem? Not a name meets thee, that has not belonged to a hero! If thou grievest to find all dissimilar but the name; yet mayest thou still muse, contemplative, over the tomb and ashes of him, whom thy mind has shadowed forth, as a noble light in a more romantic age.
Art thou a moralist, a thinking Christian? Thou mayest there trace--and the pursuit shall profit thee--the steps of the sainted apostle; he who was so signally called forth, to hear witness to the truth of ONE, whom he had erst reviled. Yon cordelier will show you the bay, where his vessel took refuge in its distress; and will tell you, that yon jagged rock first gave its dangerous welcome, to the bark of his patron saint.
There is such a blending together of European, Asiatic, and African customs; there is such a variety in the costumes one meets; there is such grandeur in their palaces--such glory in their annals; such novelty in their manners and habits; such devotion in their religious observances; such simplicity and yet such beauty, in the dress of the women; and their wearers possess such fascinations; that we defy the most fastidious of critics, who has really resided there, to deny to Malta many of those attributes, with which he would invest that place, on whose beauty and agremens, he may prefer of all others to descant.
With the commonplace observer, its superb harbour, studded with gilded boats; its powerful fortifications, where art towers over nature, and where the eye looks up a rock, and catches a bristling battery; the glare of its scenery, with no foliage to cover the white stone;--all these, together with the different way in which the minutiae of life are transacted,--will call forth his attention, and demand his notice.
Art thou a poet, or a fancied warrior? What scene has been more replete with noble exploits? In whose breasts did the flame of chivalry burn brighter, than in those of the knights of St. John of Jerusalem? Not a name meets thee, that has not belonged to a hero! If thou grievest to find all dissimilar but the name; yet mayest thou still muse, contemplative, over the tomb and ashes of him, whom thy mind has shadowed forth, as a noble light in a more romantic age.
Art thou a moralist, a thinking Christian? Thou mayest there trace--and the pursuit shall profit thee--the steps of the sainted apostle; he who was so signally called forth, to hear witness to the truth of ONE, whom he had erst reviled. Yon cordelier will show you the bay, where his vessel took refuge in its distress; and will tell you, that yon jagged rock first gave its dangerous welcome, to the bark of his patron saint.
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Malta! the snowy sail shivers in the wind--the waves, chafed by our intruding keel, are proudly foaming--sea birds soar, screaming their farewell aloft--as we wave our hand to thee for ever! What is our feeling, as we see thee cheap jerseys hourly?
Regret! unfeigned regret!
Albeit we speed to our native land, on the wing of a bark as fleet as ever--but it matters not--thou hast seen the best of our days.
Visions conjured up by thee, have the unusual power, to banish anticipations of Almack's glories, and of home flirtations.
We are recalling balls enjoyed in thee, loved island! the valse spun round with the darling fleet-footed Maltese, who during its pauses leant back on our arm, against which her spangled zone throbbed, from the pulsations of her wholesale jerseys.
Dreams of turtle and of grand master--the fish, not the official--and of consecutive iced champagne, mock our sight! But more--yes! far more than all, are we reminded of thy abode--thou dispenser of cheering liquids! thou promoter of convivial happiness! meek Saverio! How swiftly glided the mirth-loving nights as--the enchanting strains of the prima donna hushed--we adjourned to thy ever to be praised bottegua!
With what precision didst thou there mete out the many varied ingredients--the exact relative proportions--which can alone embody our conception of the nectar of the Gods, punch a la cheap football jerseys!
Whose cigars ever equalled thine, thou prince of Ganymedes? and when were cigars more justly appreciated, than as our puffs kept time with the trolling ditty, resounding through the walls of thy domain?
The luxury of those days!
Then would Sol come peeping in upon us; as unwelcome and unlooked-for a visitant, as to the enamoured Juliet, when she sighing told her lover that
"'Twas but a meteor that the sun exhaled,
To be to him that night a torch-bearer,
And light him on his way to Mantua."
Then, with head dizzy from its gladness, with heart unduly elate, has the Strada Teatro seen us, imperiously calling for the submissive caleche. Arrived in our chamber, how gravely did we close its shutters! With what a feeling of satisfied enjoyment, did we court the downy freshness of the snow-white sheet!
Sweet and deep were our slumbers--for youth's spell was upon us, and our fifth lustre had not yet heralded us to serious thoughts and anxious cares.
Awoke by the officious valet, and remorseless friend, deemest though our debauch was felt? No! an effervescent draught of soda calmed us; we ate a blood orange, and smoked a cigar!
Regret! unfeigned regret!
Albeit we speed to our native land, on the wing of a bark as fleet as ever--but it matters not--thou hast seen the best of our days.
Visions conjured up by thee, have the unusual power, to banish anticipations of Almack's glories, and of home flirtations.
We are recalling balls enjoyed in thee, loved island! the valse spun round with the darling fleet-footed Maltese, who during its pauses leant back on our arm, against which her spangled zone throbbed, from the pulsations of her wholesale jerseys.
Dreams of turtle and of grand master--the fish, not the official--and of consecutive iced champagne, mock our sight! But more--yes! far more than all, are we reminded of thy abode--thou dispenser of cheering liquids! thou promoter of convivial happiness! meek Saverio! How swiftly glided the mirth-loving nights as--the enchanting strains of the prima donna hushed--we adjourned to thy ever to be praised bottegua!
With what precision didst thou there mete out the many varied ingredients--the exact relative proportions--which can alone embody our conception of the nectar of the Gods, punch a la cheap football jerseys!
Whose cigars ever equalled thine, thou prince of Ganymedes? and when were cigars more justly appreciated, than as our puffs kept time with the trolling ditty, resounding through the walls of thy domain?
The luxury of those days!
Then would Sol come peeping in upon us; as unwelcome and unlooked-for a visitant, as to the enamoured Juliet, when she sighing told her lover that
"'Twas but a meteor that the sun exhaled,
To be to him that night a torch-bearer,
And light him on his way to Mantua."
Then, with head dizzy from its gladness, with heart unduly elate, has the Strada Teatro seen us, imperiously calling for the submissive caleche. Arrived in our chamber, how gravely did we close its shutters! With what a feeling of satisfied enjoyment, did we court the downy freshness of the snow-white sheet!
Sweet and deep were our slumbers--for youth's spell was upon us, and our fifth lustre had not yet heralded us to serious thoughts and anxious cares.
Awoke by the officious valet, and remorseless friend, deemest though our debauch was felt? No! an effervescent draught of soda calmed us; we ate a blood orange, and smoked a cigar!
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"The moon was shining brightly--dancing on the silver side of the olive trees--and illuminating the green michael kors outlet.
"This was smooth and verdant.
"My spirits were more than usually buoyant, when suddenly my pony stopped.
"I could not conceive the reason.
"I looked before me. Immediately in front of me, was the shattered trunk of an old olive tree--it had been blasted by lightning--and sitting quietly at its foot--I saw my own mother, Giorgio! as clearly as I see you now. I could not be mistaken. She wore the same embroidered vest and Albanian shawl, as when I had last seen her.
"She conversed with me calmly for many minutes, and--which surprised me much at the time--I felt no dread, and asked her and answered many questions.
"She told me I should die early, in a foreign land; and many--many more things, which I dare not repeat; for I cannot contemplate the possibility of their being true.
"At the time, I told you I felt composed: without any sense of alarm or surprise. For many days afterwards, however, I never left my bed of michael kors outlet store.
"I told my kinsman all the circumstances, and he discovered beyond a doubt, that it was on that very day, the twelve-month previous, that my poor mother had been murdered."
Sir Henry and George tried to smile at Acme's story, and account for what she had seen;--but her manner was so impressive, and her ingenious reasonings--delivered in the most earnest tone--seemed to confute so entirely all their speculations, that they were at length content to deem it "wondrous strange."
In the best and wisest of us, there is such a tendency to believe in a mysterious link, connecting the living and the departed; that a story of this nature, in exciting our feelings, serves to paralyse our reasoning faculties, and leaves us half converts, to the doctrines that we faintly combat.
They looked forth again on the scene. The mountains of Calabria were frowning on them. The village was far behind--and not a straggling light marked its situation.
Numberless stars were reflected on the glassy water, whose serenity was no longer ruffled by wing of sea bird, which long ere now had returned to its "wave girded nest."
Our party and the watch were the only lingerers on deck.
"This was smooth and verdant.
"My spirits were more than usually buoyant, when suddenly my pony stopped.
"I could not conceive the reason.
"I looked before me. Immediately in front of me, was the shattered trunk of an old olive tree--it had been blasted by lightning--and sitting quietly at its foot--I saw my own mother, Giorgio! as clearly as I see you now. I could not be mistaken. She wore the same embroidered vest and Albanian shawl, as when I had last seen her.
"She conversed with me calmly for many minutes, and--which surprised me much at the time--I felt no dread, and asked her and answered many questions.
"She told me I should die early, in a foreign land; and many--many more things, which I dare not repeat; for I cannot contemplate the possibility of their being true.
"At the time, I told you I felt composed: without any sense of alarm or surprise. For many days afterwards, however, I never left my bed of michael kors outlet store.
"I told my kinsman all the circumstances, and he discovered beyond a doubt, that it was on that very day, the twelve-month previous, that my poor mother had been murdered."
Sir Henry and George tried to smile at Acme's story, and account for what she had seen;--but her manner was so impressive, and her ingenious reasonings--delivered in the most earnest tone--seemed to confute so entirely all their speculations, that they were at length content to deem it "wondrous strange."
In the best and wisest of us, there is such a tendency to believe in a mysterious link, connecting the living and the departed; that a story of this nature, in exciting our feelings, serves to paralyse our reasoning faculties, and leaves us half converts, to the doctrines that we faintly combat.
They looked forth again on the scene. The mountains of Calabria were frowning on them. The village was far behind--and not a straggling light marked its situation.
Numberless stars were reflected on the glassy water, whose serenity was no longer ruffled by wing of sea bird, which long ere now had returned to its "wave girded nest."
Our party and the watch were the only lingerers on deck.
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"'Featherstone gave a piercing scream! Some of the sepoys were by this time up--and fired.
"'The tiger trailed off--the blood spouting down his striped wholesale jerseys.
"'We came up--it was all over!
"'The first stroke of that terrific paw had laid the unfortunate man's scull bare. On his shoulder, were the marks of the animal's teeth.
"'The horse was still writhing in agony. One of my pistols relieved him.
"'We bore Featherstone to the nearest cantonment, and buried him there.'"
"How terrible!" said Acme, as she gave a slight shudder. "Englishmen are generally more sceptical on these cheap jerseys than we are; and disbelieve supernatural appearances, which we are accustomed to think are not unfrequent. I could tell you many stories, which, in my native island, were believed by our enemies the Turks, as well as by ourselves: but if you would like it, I will tell you a circumstance that occurred to myself, the reality of which I dare not doubt.
"You have often, Giorgio! heard me revert with pain, to the horrible scene which took place, on the recapture of our little isle by the infidel Turks; when my family were massacred, and only poor Acme left to tell their tale."
Here the young bride put her handkerchief to her face, and wept bitterly. George put his arm round her and soothed her. She continued her narrative.
"You know my escape, and how I was sent to a kinsman, who had promised to have me sent to my kind friends in Malta. He was a Corfuote, and it was in Corfu I remained for a long--a very long time--and there first met my dear friend, Zoee Scalvo-Forressi. I was then very young. We lived in the Campagna--about four miles from each other.
"We had both our Greek ponies, and used often to pass the evenings together; and at length knew our michael kors outlet so well, that often it was night before we parted.
"One night, we had been singing together at her house, and it was later than usual when I cantered home.
"About four months had elapsed previous to my landing in Corfu, and I had been eight months there; although at the time, I paid little attention to these circumstances.
"My road lay through an olive grove. I had arrived in its centre, where a small knoll stretched away on my right; on whose summit, was a white Greek monastery, backed by some dark cypress trees.
"'The tiger trailed off--the blood spouting down his striped wholesale jerseys.
"'We came up--it was all over!
"'The first stroke of that terrific paw had laid the unfortunate man's scull bare. On his shoulder, were the marks of the animal's teeth.
"'The horse was still writhing in agony. One of my pistols relieved him.
"'We bore Featherstone to the nearest cantonment, and buried him there.'"
"How terrible!" said Acme, as she gave a slight shudder. "Englishmen are generally more sceptical on these cheap jerseys than we are; and disbelieve supernatural appearances, which we are accustomed to think are not unfrequent. I could tell you many stories, which, in my native island, were believed by our enemies the Turks, as well as by ourselves: but if you would like it, I will tell you a circumstance that occurred to myself, the reality of which I dare not doubt.
"You have often, Giorgio! heard me revert with pain, to the horrible scene which took place, on the recapture of our little isle by the infidel Turks; when my family were massacred, and only poor Acme left to tell their tale."
Here the young bride put her handkerchief to her face, and wept bitterly. George put his arm round her and soothed her. She continued her narrative.
"You know my escape, and how I was sent to a kinsman, who had promised to have me sent to my kind friends in Malta. He was a Corfuote, and it was in Corfu I remained for a long--a very long time--and there first met my dear friend, Zoee Scalvo-Forressi. I was then very young. We lived in the Campagna--about four miles from each other.
"We had both our Greek ponies, and used often to pass the evenings together; and at length knew our michael kors outlet so well, that often it was night before we parted.
"One night, we had been singing together at her house, and it was later than usual when I cantered home.
"About four months had elapsed previous to my landing in Corfu, and I had been eight months there; although at the time, I paid little attention to these circumstances.
"My road lay through an olive grove. I had arrived in its centre, where a small knoll stretched away on my right; on whose summit, was a white Greek monastery, backed by some dark cypress trees.
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"They had had good sport, and were returning jerseys wholesale, when they suddenly came on a party of natives, headed by the Rajah.
"They were mounted on elephants, and surrounding a jungle, in which, as some sepoys had reported, lay a tiger.
"You know Lockhart's manner--animated and enthusiastic--making one see the scene he is describing.
"I will try and clothe the rest of the story in his own words, although I can hardly hope it will make the same impression on you, that its recital did on me.
"'Well, Sir! we all said we would see the sport--all but Featherstone--who said something about coming on.
"'We were engaged to dine with Sir John M----, who was in that part of the world, on some six-and-eightpenny mission about jerseys cheap.
"'The beaters went in, firing and shouting--intending to make him break towards the hunting party.
"'We all drew up on one side, to be in view, but out of the way; Featherstone was next me. He suddenly grasped my arm, and pointed to the jungle, his teeth chattering--his face ashy pale. I turned and saw the tiger!--a splendid beast--certainly!
"'He seemed not to notice us, and stalked on with an innocent yep! yep! like a sick hound's, more than anything else.
"'Suddenly his eye caught us, and flashed fire. At the first view, he crouched to the earth, then came on us, bounding like a tost foot-ball. More magnificent leaps I never beheld! We were struck dumb--but fired--and turned our horses' heads!--all but Featherstone.
"'I shall remember the tones of his voice to my dying cheap nike shoes.
"'"The cat! Lockhart! the cat!"
"'I don't know whether his horse refused the spur--or whether the rider's nerve was gone: but neither appeared to make an effort, till the animal was close on them.
"'The horse gave one plunge--and had hardly recovered his feet, when down went horse and rider.
"They were mounted on elephants, and surrounding a jungle, in which, as some sepoys had reported, lay a tiger.
"You know Lockhart's manner--animated and enthusiastic--making one see the scene he is describing.
"I will try and clothe the rest of the story in his own words, although I can hardly hope it will make the same impression on you, that its recital did on me.
"'Well, Sir! we all said we would see the sport--all but Featherstone--who said something about coming on.
"'We were engaged to dine with Sir John M----, who was in that part of the world, on some six-and-eightpenny mission about jerseys cheap.
"'The beaters went in, firing and shouting--intending to make him break towards the hunting party.
"'We all drew up on one side, to be in view, but out of the way; Featherstone was next me. He suddenly grasped my arm, and pointed to the jungle, his teeth chattering--his face ashy pale. I turned and saw the tiger!--a splendid beast--certainly!
"'He seemed not to notice us, and stalked on with an innocent yep! yep! like a sick hound's, more than anything else.
"'Suddenly his eye caught us, and flashed fire. At the first view, he crouched to the earth, then came on us, bounding like a tost foot-ball. More magnificent leaps I never beheld! We were struck dumb--but fired--and turned our horses' heads!--all but Featherstone.
"'I shall remember the tones of his voice to my dying cheap nike shoes.
"'"The cat! Lockhart! the cat!"
"'I don't know whether his horse refused the spur--or whether the rider's nerve was gone: but neither appeared to make an effort, till the animal was close on them.
"'The horse gave one plunge--and had hardly recovered his feet, when down went horse and rider.
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"That bright-eyed gull, love!" replied he, "riding on the water as if all regardless that he is on the wide--wide sea--whose billows may so soon be lashed up to madness;--where may I find a resemblance more close, than my Acme's simplicity, which guides her through a troubled world, unknowing its cheap jerseys in china, and happily ignorant of its dangers and its woes?"
"Ah!" said the blushing girl, "how poetical you are this evening; will you tell us a story, Giorgio?"
"I will tell you one," said Delme, interrupting her. "Do you recollect old Featherstone, who had been in the civil service in India, and who lived so near Delme Park, George?"
"Perfectly," said his brother, "I remember I used to think him mad, because he always looked so melancholy, and used to send us word in the morning when he contemplated a visit; in order that all cats might be kept out of his nike shoes cheap."
"The very man! I am glad you know so much about him, for it is on this subject I was going to speak. I cannot tell you where he picked up the idea originally--but I believe in a dream--that a cat would occasion his death.
"Well! he was at Ascot one year, when a gipsy woman came up to him on the course--told him his fortune--and, to his utter Where to get cheap authentic jerseys, warned him to beware of the wild cat.
"From that moment, I understand his habits changed. From being a tolerably cheerful companion, he became a wretched hypochondriac; all his energies being directed to the avoiding a contact with any of the feline race.
"Featherstone, two or three years ago, embarked in one of the mining speculations--lost great part of his fortune--and found it necessary to try and retrieve his affairs, by a second voyage to India.
"I heard nothing more of him, till just before leaving England, when my old school-fellow, Lockhart, who went as a cadet to the East, called on me--reminded me of our old whimsical friend--and related his tragic death.
"Lockhart says that one day he and some mutual friends, persuaded Featherstone to accompany them into the interior of the country, to enjoy the diversion of a boar hunt.
"Ah!" said the blushing girl, "how poetical you are this evening; will you tell us a story, Giorgio?"
"I will tell you one," said Delme, interrupting her. "Do you recollect old Featherstone, who had been in the civil service in India, and who lived so near Delme Park, George?"
"Perfectly," said his brother, "I remember I used to think him mad, because he always looked so melancholy, and used to send us word in the morning when he contemplated a visit; in order that all cats might be kept out of his nike shoes cheap."
"The very man! I am glad you know so much about him, for it is on this subject I was going to speak. I cannot tell you where he picked up the idea originally--but I believe in a dream--that a cat would occasion his death.
"Well! he was at Ascot one year, when a gipsy woman came up to him on the course--told him his fortune--and, to his utter Where to get cheap authentic jerseys, warned him to beware of the wild cat.
"From that moment, I understand his habits changed. From being a tolerably cheerful companion, he became a wretched hypochondriac; all his energies being directed to the avoiding a contact with any of the feline race.
"Featherstone, two or three years ago, embarked in one of the mining speculations--lost great part of his fortune--and found it necessary to try and retrieve his affairs, by a second voyage to India.
"I heard nothing more of him, till just before leaving England, when my old school-fellow, Lockhart, who went as a cadet to the East, called on me--reminded me of our old whimsical friend--and related his tragic death.
"Lockhart says that one day he and some mutual friends, persuaded Featherstone to accompany them into the interior of the country, to enjoy the diversion of a boar hunt.
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It was the fourth evening of the voyage. Hardly a breath fanned the sails, as the vessel slowly glided between the Calabrian and Sicilian wholesale cheap jerseys, approaching quite close to the former.
The party, seated on chairs placed on the deck, gazed in a spirit of placid enjoyment on one of those scenes, which the enthusiastic traveller often recals, as in his native clime, he pines for foreign lands, and for novel impressions. The sun was setting over the purple peaks of the Calabrian mountains, smiling in sunny gladness on deep ravines, whose echoes few human feet now woke, save those of simple peasant, or lawless bandit. Where the orb of day held its declining course, the sky wore a hue of burnished gold; its rich tint alone varied, by one fleecy violet cloud, whose outline of rounded beauty, was marked by a clear cincture of white,
On their right, beneath the mountain, lay the little village of Capo del Marte, a perfect specimen of Italian scenery.
Its sandy beach, against which the tide beat in dalliance--the chafed spray catching and reflecting the glories of the setting sun--ran smoothly up a slope of some thirty yards; beyond which, the orange trees, in their greenest cheap nike shoes, chequered with their shade the white cottages scattered above them.
The busy hum of the fishermen on the coast--the splash of the casting net--and the drip of the oar--were appropriate accompaniments to the simple scene.
On the Sicilian side, a different view wooed attention. There, old Etna upreared his encumbered head, around which the smoke clung in dense majesty; and--not contemptible rivals of the declining deity--the moon's silvery crescent, and the evening star's quiet splendour, were bedecking the cloudless blue of the firmament.
Acme gazed enraptured on the scene--her long tresses hanging back on the chair, across which one hand was languidly thrown.
"Giorgio," said she, "do you see this beautiful bird close to the ship--swimming so steadily--its snowy plumage apparently unwet from its contact with the wave? To what can you compare it?"
The party, seated on chairs placed on the deck, gazed in a spirit of placid enjoyment on one of those scenes, which the enthusiastic traveller often recals, as in his native clime, he pines for foreign lands, and for novel impressions. The sun was setting over the purple peaks of the Calabrian mountains, smiling in sunny gladness on deep ravines, whose echoes few human feet now woke, save those of simple peasant, or lawless bandit. Where the orb of day held its declining course, the sky wore a hue of burnished gold; its rich tint alone varied, by one fleecy violet cloud, whose outline of rounded beauty, was marked by a clear cincture of white,
On their right, beneath the mountain, lay the little village of Capo del Marte, a perfect specimen of Italian scenery.
Its sandy beach, against which the tide beat in dalliance--the chafed spray catching and reflecting the glories of the setting sun--ran smoothly up a slope of some thirty yards; beyond which, the orange trees, in their greenest cheap nike shoes, chequered with their shade the white cottages scattered above them.
The busy hum of the fishermen on the coast--the splash of the casting net--and the drip of the oar--were appropriate accompaniments to the simple scene.
On the Sicilian side, a different view wooed attention. There, old Etna upreared his encumbered head, around which the smoke clung in dense majesty; and--not contemptible rivals of the declining deity--the moon's silvery crescent, and the evening star's quiet splendour, were bedecking the cloudless blue of the firmament.
Acme gazed enraptured on the scene--her long tresses hanging back on the chair, across which one hand was languidly thrown.
"Giorgio," said she, "do you see this beautiful bird close to the ship--swimming so steadily--its snowy plumage apparently unwet from its contact with the wave? To what can you compare it?"
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Acme, meantime, remained on George's cheap jerseys, talking to a girl of thirteen, who had been selected to conduct them to the carriage.
They entered their names in a book at the lodge, and then, turning to the benevolent director, paid him some well deserved compliments, for which he bowed low and often.
The young girl, who had been conversing most rationally with cheapest jerseys, moved forward, and made a signal for the carriage to drive up.
She was a fair-haired gentle-looking creature, with quiet eye, and silvery voice. She assisted Acme to step into the carriage, who dropped a piece of silver into her hand, for which she gave a sweet smile and a curtsey.
She stood a moment motionless. Suddenly her eye lighted up--she darted into the carriage, and clapped her hands together joyfully.
"Viva! viva! we shall soon be home at Trapani!"
The tears sprang to the eyes of the young jerseys wholesale.
Even the driver and cicerone were moved.
Acme took some flowers from her zone--kissed her cheek--and tried to change the current of her thoughts; but it was not till the driver promised he would call again, at the same hour the following day, that she consented with a sigh to relinquish her journey home.
From the Lunatic Asylum, our party adjourned to the Duomo, and beheld the coffin, where the revered body of the Palermitan Saint, attracts many a devout Catholic.
Sweet Rosalia! thy story is a pretty one--thy festa beauteous--the fireworks in thy honour most bright. No wonder the fair Sicilians adore thy memory.
In the cool of the evening, our travellers drove to the Marina; where custom--the crowded assemblage--and the grateful sea breeze--nightly attract the gay inhabitants of Palermo.
The carriages, with their epauletted chasseurs, swept on in giddy succession, and made a scene quite as imposing as is witnessed in most European capitals.
Delme did not think it advisable, to remain too long in the metropolis of Sicily; and the travellers contented themselves, with the sight-seeing of the immediate neighbourhood.
They admired the mosaics of the Chiesa di Monte Reale; and fed the pheasants, at that beautiful royal villa, well styled "the Favourite." They took a boat to witness the tunny fishery; and Sir Henry explored alone the vast catacombs--that city of the dead.
They entered their names in a book at the lodge, and then, turning to the benevolent director, paid him some well deserved compliments, for which he bowed low and often.
The young girl, who had been conversing most rationally with cheapest jerseys, moved forward, and made a signal for the carriage to drive up.
She was a fair-haired gentle-looking creature, with quiet eye, and silvery voice. She assisted Acme to step into the carriage, who dropped a piece of silver into her hand, for which she gave a sweet smile and a curtsey.
She stood a moment motionless. Suddenly her eye lighted up--she darted into the carriage, and clapped her hands together joyfully.
"Viva! viva! we shall soon be home at Trapani!"
The tears sprang to the eyes of the young jerseys wholesale.
Even the driver and cicerone were moved.
Acme took some flowers from her zone--kissed her cheek--and tried to change the current of her thoughts; but it was not till the driver promised he would call again, at the same hour the following day, that she consented with a sigh to relinquish her journey home.
From the Lunatic Asylum, our party adjourned to the Duomo, and beheld the coffin, where the revered body of the Palermitan Saint, attracts many a devout Catholic.
Sweet Rosalia! thy story is a pretty one--thy festa beauteous--the fireworks in thy honour most bright. No wonder the fair Sicilians adore thy memory.
In the cool of the evening, our travellers drove to the Marina; where custom--the crowded assemblage--and the grateful sea breeze--nightly attract the gay inhabitants of Palermo.
The carriages, with their epauletted chasseurs, swept on in giddy succession, and made a scene quite as imposing as is witnessed in most European capitals.
Delme did not think it advisable, to remain too long in the metropolis of Sicily; and the travellers contented themselves, with the sight-seeing of the immediate neighbourhood.
They admired the mosaics of the Chiesa di Monte Reale; and fed the pheasants, at that beautiful royal villa, well styled "the Favourite." They took a boat to witness the tunny fishery; and Sir Henry explored alone the vast catacombs--that city of the dead.
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"How many inmates have you in the asylum at present?" said Acme.
"One hundred and thirty-six, eighty-six of whom are males. These are our baths, to which they are daily taken; this the refectory; this the parlatorio, where they see their friends; and now, if the cheap jerseys is not afraid, we will descend to the court yard, and see my charges."
"There is no fear?" said George.
"Not in the least. Our punishment is so formidable, that few will incur it by being refractory."
"What! then you are obliged to punish them?" said Acme, with a shudder.
"Sometimes, but not often. I will show you what our punishment consists in. You see this room without furniture! Observe the walls and floor; and even the door as it closes. All these are carefully stuffed; and if you walk across the room, there is no sound.
"We cautiously search violent lunatics; who are then dressed in a plain flannel suit, and left alone. It is seldom we have occasion to retain them longer than twenty-four hours. They soon find they cannot injure themselves; their most violent efforts cannot elicit a sound. Their minds become calmed; and when released, they are perfectly quiet, and generally inclined to melancholy."
They descended to the court yard, set apart for the men. Its inmates were pacing it hurriedly; some jabbering to themselves; others with groups round them, to whom they addressed some quickly delivered jargon. With one or two exceptions, all noticed the entrance of the strangers; and some of them bowed to them, with mock gravity. One man, who wore an old cocked hat with a shabby wholesale jerseys, tapped Sir Henry on the shoulder.
"Vous me reconnaissez--Napoleon! votre Empereur!"
He wheeled round, and called for his Mamelukes.
The next moment, a young and interesting looking person came forward, the tears standing in his, eyes, and extended his hand to Acme.
"Give me yours," said he, "as a great favour. I was a painter once in Naples--and I went to Rome--and I loved Gianetta Cantieri!"
A more ludicrous incident now occurred. At and since their entrance, our party had heard what seemed the continued bark of a dog. A man on all fours came forward from behind a group, and with unmeaning face, and nostril snuffing up the wind, imitated to perfection the deep bay of a mastiff.
"That man's peculiarity," observed the Baron, "is an extraordinary one. He had a cottage near Catania, and had saved some little wealth. His house was one night robbed of all it contained. This misfortune preyed on the man's reason, and he now conceives himself a watch dog. He knows the step of every inmate of the asylum, and only barks at strangers."
"One hundred and thirty-six, eighty-six of whom are males. These are our baths, to which they are daily taken; this the refectory; this the parlatorio, where they see their friends; and now, if the cheap jerseys is not afraid, we will descend to the court yard, and see my charges."
"There is no fear?" said George.
"Not in the least. Our punishment is so formidable, that few will incur it by being refractory."
"What! then you are obliged to punish them?" said Acme, with a shudder.
"Sometimes, but not often. I will show you what our punishment consists in. You see this room without furniture! Observe the walls and floor; and even the door as it closes. All these are carefully stuffed; and if you walk across the room, there is no sound.
"We cautiously search violent lunatics; who are then dressed in a plain flannel suit, and left alone. It is seldom we have occasion to retain them longer than twenty-four hours. They soon find they cannot injure themselves; their most violent efforts cannot elicit a sound. Their minds become calmed; and when released, they are perfectly quiet, and generally inclined to melancholy."
They descended to the court yard, set apart for the men. Its inmates were pacing it hurriedly; some jabbering to themselves; others with groups round them, to whom they addressed some quickly delivered jargon. With one or two exceptions, all noticed the entrance of the strangers; and some of them bowed to them, with mock gravity. One man, who wore an old cocked hat with a shabby wholesale jerseys, tapped Sir Henry on the shoulder.
"Vous me reconnaissez--Napoleon! votre Empereur!"
He wheeled round, and called for his Mamelukes.
The next moment, a young and interesting looking person came forward, the tears standing in his, eyes, and extended his hand to Acme.
"Give me yours," said he, "as a great favour. I was a painter once in Naples--and I went to Rome--and I loved Gianetta Cantieri!"
A more ludicrous incident now occurred. At and since their entrance, our party had heard what seemed the continued bark of a dog. A man on all fours came forward from behind a group, and with unmeaning face, and nostril snuffing up the wind, imitated to perfection the deep bay of a mastiff.
"That man's peculiarity," observed the Baron, "is an extraordinary one. He had a cottage near Catania, and had saved some little wealth. His house was one night robbed of all it contained. This misfortune preyed on the man's reason, and he now conceives himself a watch dog. He knows the step of every inmate of the asylum, and only barks at strangers."
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From the male court yard, the Baron ushered them to the female, where insanity assumed a yet more melancholy shape.
A pale-faced maniac, with quivering frame, and glaring wholesale jerseys, continued to cry, in a low and piteous tone, "Murder! murder!! murder!!!"
One woman, reclining on the cold pavement, dandled a straw, and called it her sweet child; while another hugged a misshapen block of wood to her bared breast, and deemed it her true love.
A third was on her knees, and at regular cheapest jerseys, bent down her shrivelled body, and devoured the gravel beneath her.
Acme was happy to leave the scene, and move towards the garden; which was extensive, and beautifully laid out.
As they turned down one of the alleys, they encountered five or six men, drawn up in line, and armed with wooden muskets.
In front stood Napoleon, who, with stentorian voice, gave the word to "present arms!" then dropping his stick, and taking off his hat to Delme, began to converse familiarly with him, as with his friend Emperor Alexander, as to the efficiency of Poniatowski and his Polish lancers.
"Poor fellow!" said the Baron, as they moved on. "Never was insanity more harmless! He was once brigade major to Murat. This is his hour for exercise. Exactly at two, he goes through the scene of Fontainbleau, What will appear to you extraordinary is, that over the five or six men you saw around him, whose madness has been marked by few distinguishing traits, he has gradually assumed a superiority, until they now believe him to be, in reality, the Emperor he so unconsciously michael kors outlet."
In the garden, which was of considerable size, were placed a number of swings and whirligigs, in full motion and occupancy.
On a stuccoed wall, were represented grotesque figures of animals dancing; opposite to which, one of Terpsichore's votaries, with a paper cap on his head, shaped like a pyramid, was executing agile capers, whose zeal of purpose would have found infinite favour in the eyes of Laporte.
Having explored the garden, Delme accompanied the Baron to a small room, where the sculls of the deceased maniacs were ranged on shelves, with a small biographical note attached to each; and heard with attention, the old man's energetic reasoning, as to these fully demonstrating the truth of Spurzheim's theory.
A pale-faced maniac, with quivering frame, and glaring wholesale jerseys, continued to cry, in a low and piteous tone, "Murder! murder!! murder!!!"
One woman, reclining on the cold pavement, dandled a straw, and called it her sweet child; while another hugged a misshapen block of wood to her bared breast, and deemed it her true love.
A third was on her knees, and at regular cheapest jerseys, bent down her shrivelled body, and devoured the gravel beneath her.
Acme was happy to leave the scene, and move towards the garden; which was extensive, and beautifully laid out.
As they turned down one of the alleys, they encountered five or six men, drawn up in line, and armed with wooden muskets.
In front stood Napoleon, who, with stentorian voice, gave the word to "present arms!" then dropping his stick, and taking off his hat to Delme, began to converse familiarly with him, as with his friend Emperor Alexander, as to the efficiency of Poniatowski and his Polish lancers.
"Poor fellow!" said the Baron, as they moved on. "Never was insanity more harmless! He was once brigade major to Murat. This is his hour for exercise. Exactly at two, he goes through the scene of Fontainbleau, What will appear to you extraordinary is, that over the five or six men you saw around him, whose madness has been marked by few distinguishing traits, he has gradually assumed a superiority, until they now believe him to be, in reality, the Emperor he so unconsciously michael kors outlet."
In the garden, which was of considerable size, were placed a number of swings and whirligigs, in full motion and occupancy.
On a stuccoed wall, were represented grotesque figures of animals dancing; opposite to which, one of Terpsichore's votaries, with a paper cap on his head, shaped like a pyramid, was executing agile capers, whose zeal of purpose would have found infinite favour in the eyes of Laporte.
Having explored the garden, Delme accompanied the Baron to a small room, where the sculls of the deceased maniacs were ranged on shelves, with a small biographical note attached to each; and heard with attention, the old man's energetic reasoning, as to these fully demonstrating the truth of Spurzheim's theory.
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He, nothing loath, accepted the charge; and taking his station on the box of the carriage, directed the driver.
The carriage first stopped before a large stone building. The bell was rung--a veteran porter presented himself--and our party entered the court yard.
"What place is this?" said Delme.
"This," rejoined his guide, with the true cicerone fluency, "is the famous lunatic asylum, instituted by the illustrious Baron Pisani. This, gentlemen, is the Baron!"
Here a benevolent-looking little man with a large nose, took off his hat.
"So much approved of was his beneficent design, that our noble King, and our paternal Government, have not only adopted it; but have graciously permitted the Baron, to continue to preside over that institution, which he so happily commenced, and which he so refulgently adorns."
During this announcement, the Baron's face flushed with a simple, but honest pride.
These praises did not to him appear exaggerated; for his intentions had been of the purest, and in this institution was his whole soul wrapt up. Acme became somewhat pale, as she heard where they were, and looked nervously at George; who could not forbear smiling, as he begged they would be under no apprehensions.
"Yes! gentlemen," said the Baron, "circumstances in early life made me regard mental disease as the most fearful of all. I observed its victims struggling between reason and insanity; goaded on by the ignorance of empirics, and the harsh treatment of those about them, until light fled the tortured brain, and madness directed its every impulse. You, gentlemen, are English travellers, I perceive! In your happy land, where generosity and wealth go hand in hand, there are, I doubt not, many humane institutions, where those, who--bowed down by misfortunes, or preyed on by disease--have lost the power to take care of themselves, may find a home, where they may be anxiously tended, and carefully provided for.
"Here we knew not of such things.
"I have said, gentlemen, that chance made me feel a deep interest in these unfortunates. I sunk the greater part of my fortune, in constructing this mansion, trusting that the subscriptions of individuals, would enable me to prosecute the good work.
"In this I was disappointed; but our worthy Viceroy, who took an interest in my plans, laid the matter before the Government, which--as Signer Guiseppe observes--has not only undertaken to support my cheap nike shoes, but also permits me to preside over the establishment. That, gentlemen, is my apartment, with the mignionette boxes in front, and without iron bars in the window; though indeed these very bars are painted, at my suggestion, such a delicate green, that you might not have been aware that they were such.
"This is our first chamber--cheerful and snug. Here are the patients first brought. We indulge them in all their caprices, until we are enabled to decide with certainty, on the fantasy the brain has conjured up. From this room, we take them to the adjacent bed-room, where we administer such remedies as we think the best fitted to restore reason.
"If these fail, we apportion the patient a cell, and consider the case as beyond our immediate relief. We cure, on an average, two-thirds of the cases forwarded to us; and there have been instances of the mind's recovering its tone, after a confinement of some years."
The carriage first stopped before a large stone building. The bell was rung--a veteran porter presented himself--and our party entered the court yard.
"What place is this?" said Delme.
"This," rejoined his guide, with the true cicerone fluency, "is the famous lunatic asylum, instituted by the illustrious Baron Pisani. This, gentlemen, is the Baron!"
Here a benevolent-looking little man with a large nose, took off his hat.
"So much approved of was his beneficent design, that our noble King, and our paternal Government, have not only adopted it; but have graciously permitted the Baron, to continue to preside over that institution, which he so happily commenced, and which he so refulgently adorns."
During this announcement, the Baron's face flushed with a simple, but honest pride.
These praises did not to him appear exaggerated; for his intentions had been of the purest, and in this institution was his whole soul wrapt up. Acme became somewhat pale, as she heard where they were, and looked nervously at George; who could not forbear smiling, as he begged they would be under no apprehensions.
"Yes! gentlemen," said the Baron, "circumstances in early life made me regard mental disease as the most fearful of all. I observed its victims struggling between reason and insanity; goaded on by the ignorance of empirics, and the harsh treatment of those about them, until light fled the tortured brain, and madness directed its every impulse. You, gentlemen, are English travellers, I perceive! In your happy land, where generosity and wealth go hand in hand, there are, I doubt not, many humane institutions, where those, who--bowed down by misfortunes, or preyed on by disease--have lost the power to take care of themselves, may find a home, where they may be anxiously tended, and carefully provided for.
"Here we knew not of such things.
"I have said, gentlemen, that chance made me feel a deep interest in these unfortunates. I sunk the greater part of my fortune, in constructing this mansion, trusting that the subscriptions of individuals, would enable me to prosecute the good work.
"In this I was disappointed; but our worthy Viceroy, who took an interest in my plans, laid the matter before the Government, which--as Signer Guiseppe observes--has not only undertaken to support my cheap nike shoes, but also permits me to preside over the establishment. That, gentlemen, is my apartment, with the mignionette boxes in front, and without iron bars in the window; though indeed these very bars are painted, at my suggestion, such a delicate green, that you might not have been aware that they were such.
"This is our first chamber--cheerful and snug. Here are the patients first brought. We indulge them in all their caprices, until we are enabled to decide with certainty, on the fantasy the brain has conjured up. From this room, we take them to the adjacent bed-room, where we administer such remedies as we think the best fitted to restore reason.
"If these fail, we apportion the patient a cell, and consider the case as beyond our immediate relief. We cure, on an average, two-thirds of the cases forwarded to us; and there have been instances of the mind's recovering its tone, after a confinement of some years."
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The land breeze continued to freshen, and the first dawn of morning saw our party on deck, scanning with near view, the opposite coasts of michael kors outlet, as their vessel glided through the Faro of Messina.
Some pilot boats,--how unlike those which greet the homeward-bound voyager, as he first hails Britain's chalky cliffs--crowded around the vessel, offering their services to guide it through the strait.
Avarice--one incentive to language--had endowed these Sicilian mariners with a competent knowledge of English, which they dealt out vociferously.
As the Captain made his selection, the rejected candidates failed not to use that familiar English salam; half the gusto of which is lost, when used by foreign lip.
On the Calabrian coast, the sea-port town of Reggio wore an unusual air of bustle and animation.
It was a festa day there; and groups of peasants, in many-coloured costumes, paced up and down the mole; emitting that joyous hum, which is the never-failing concomitant of a happy crowd. Passing through the Faro, the vessel's course lay by the northern coast of Sicily. The current and wind were alike favourable, as it swept on by Melazzo and Lascari.
Etna, towering over the lesser mountains, became once more visible; its summit buried in the clouds of heaven.
On the right, a luminous crimson ring revealed Stromboli, whose fitful volcano was more than usually active.
The following day our party arrived at Palermo. So pleasurable had been their voyage, that it was with a feeling akin to regret, that they heard the rumbling chains of the anchor, rush through the hawse-hole, as their vessel took her station in the bay.
After going through those wearisome cheap nike shoes, which a foreign sea-port exacts; and which appear purposely intended, to temper the rapture of the sea-worn voyager, as he congratulates himself on once more treading terra firma; our party found themselves the inmates of the English hotel; and spent the remainder of the day in engaging a cicerone, and in discussing plans for the morrow.
The morrow came--sunny and cloudless--and the cicerone bowed to the ground, as he opened the door of the commodious fiacre.
"Where shall I drive to, Sir?"
"What were our plans, George?" said Sir Henry.
"I think," replied George, "that we only formed one plan to change it for another. Let the cicerone decide for us."
Some pilot boats,--how unlike those which greet the homeward-bound voyager, as he first hails Britain's chalky cliffs--crowded around the vessel, offering their services to guide it through the strait.
Avarice--one incentive to language--had endowed these Sicilian mariners with a competent knowledge of English, which they dealt out vociferously.
As the Captain made his selection, the rejected candidates failed not to use that familiar English salam; half the gusto of which is lost, when used by foreign lip.
On the Calabrian coast, the sea-port town of Reggio wore an unusual air of bustle and animation.
It was a festa day there; and groups of peasants, in many-coloured costumes, paced up and down the mole; emitting that joyous hum, which is the never-failing concomitant of a happy crowd. Passing through the Faro, the vessel's course lay by the northern coast of Sicily. The current and wind were alike favourable, as it swept on by Melazzo and Lascari.
Etna, towering over the lesser mountains, became once more visible; its summit buried in the clouds of heaven.
On the right, a luminous crimson ring revealed Stromboli, whose fitful volcano was more than usually active.
The following day our party arrived at Palermo. So pleasurable had been their voyage, that it was with a feeling akin to regret, that they heard the rumbling chains of the anchor, rush through the hawse-hole, as their vessel took her station in the bay.
After going through those wearisome cheap nike shoes, which a foreign sea-port exacts; and which appear purposely intended, to temper the rapture of the sea-worn voyager, as he congratulates himself on once more treading terra firma; our party found themselves the inmates of the English hotel; and spent the remainder of the day in engaging a cicerone, and in discussing plans for the morrow.
The morrow came--sunny and cloudless--and the cicerone bowed to the ground, as he opened the door of the commodious fiacre.
"Where shall I drive to, Sir?"
"What were our plans, George?" said Sir Henry.
"I think," replied George, "that we only formed one plan to change it for another. Let the cicerone decide for us."
2012年9月26日星期三
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This was the signal for Mr. Robinson's fireworks, which did not shame Vauxhall's reputation. At one moment, a salamander courted notice; at another, a train of fiery honours, festooned round four wooden pillars, was fired at different places, by as many doves practised to the task. Here, an imitation of a jet d'eau elicited applause--there, the gyrations of a Catherine's wheel were suddenly interrupted by the rapid ascent of a Roman candle.
Directly after the ascent of the balloon, Emily and Clarendon had turned towards the ball room. Julia's sisters had a group of laughing beaux round their chairs,--Mrs. Glenallan and Mrs. Vernon were discussing bygone days,--and no one seemed disposed to leave the pavilion. Sir Henry, in his silent mood, was glad to escape from the party; and engaging Julia in a search for Emily, made his way to the crowded ball room. He there found his sister spinning round with Clarendon to one of Strauss's waltzes; and Sir Henry and his partner seated themselves on one of the benches, watching the smiling faces as they whirled past them. It was a melancholy thought to Delme, how soon Emily's brow would be clouded, were he to breathe one word of George's illness and despondency. The waltz concluded, a quadrille was quickly formed. Miss Vernon declined dancing, and they rose to join Emily and Clarendon; but the lovers were flown. The ball room became still more thronged; and Delme was glad to turn once more towards the pavilion. The party they had left there had also vanished, and strangers usurped their seats. In this dilemma, Miss Vernon proposed seeking their party in the long walk. They took one or two turns down this, but saw not those for whom they were in search.
"If you do not dislike leaving this busy scene," said Sir Henry, "I think we shall have a better chance of meeting Emily and Clarendon, if we turn down one of these winding paths."
Directly after the ascent of the balloon, Emily and Clarendon had turned towards the ball room. Julia's sisters had a group of laughing beaux round their chairs,--Mrs. Glenallan and Mrs. Vernon were discussing bygone days,--and no one seemed disposed to leave the pavilion. Sir Henry, in his silent mood, was glad to escape from the party; and engaging Julia in a search for Emily, made his way to the crowded ball room. He there found his sister spinning round with Clarendon to one of Strauss's waltzes; and Sir Henry and his partner seated themselves on one of the benches, watching the smiling faces as they whirled past them. It was a melancholy thought to Delme, how soon Emily's brow would be clouded, were he to breathe one word of George's illness and despondency. The waltz concluded, a quadrille was quickly formed. Miss Vernon declined dancing, and they rose to join Emily and Clarendon; but the lovers were flown. The ball room became still more thronged; and Delme was glad to turn once more towards the pavilion. The party they had left there had also vanished, and strangers usurped their seats. In this dilemma, Miss Vernon proposed seeking their party in the long walk. They took one or two turns down this, but saw not those for whom they were in search.
"If you do not dislike leaving this busy scene," said Sir Henry, "I think we shall have a better chance of meeting Emily and Clarendon, if we turn down one of these winding paths."
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The applause at the end of this speech was very great. Signor Pacini bowed, till his face rivalled, in its hue, the rosy under-waistcoat in which he rejoiced.
Schezer stepped forward. He was attired as a mountaineer. His hat tapered to the top, and was crowned by a single heron feather. Hussars might have envied him his moustaches. From his right side protruded a couteau de chasse; and his legs were not a little set off by the tight-laced boots, which, coming up some way beyond the ancle, displayed his calf to the very best advantage.
The singer's voice was a fine manly tenor, and did ample justice to the words, of which the following may be taken as a free version.
"Mountains! dear mountains! on you have I passed my green youth; to me your breeze has been fragrant from childhood. When may I see the chamois bounding o'er your toppling crags? When, oh when, may I see my fair-haired Mary?"
The minstrel paused--a sound was heard from behind the pavilion. It was the mountain's echo. It continued the air--then died away in the softest harmony. All were charmed. Again the singer stepped forward--the utmost silence prevailed--his tones became more impassioned--they breathed of love.
"Thanks! thanks to thee, gentle echo! Oft hast thou responded to the strains of love my soul poured to--ah me! how beautiful was the fair-haired Mary!"
Again the echo spoke--again all were hushed. The minstrel's voice rose again; but its tones were not akin to joy.
"Why remember this, deceitful echo? War's blast hath blown, and hushed are the notes of love. The foe hath polluted my hearth--I wander an exile. Where, where is Mary?"
The echo faintly but plaintively replied. There were some imagined that a tear really started to the eye of the singer. He struck the guitar wildly--his voice became more agitated--he advanced to the extremity of the balcony.
"My sword! my sword! May my right hand be withered ere it forget to grasp its hilt! One blow for freedom. Freedom--sweet as was the lip--Yes! I'll revenge my Mary!"
Schezer stepped forward. He was attired as a mountaineer. His hat tapered to the top, and was crowned by a single heron feather. Hussars might have envied him his moustaches. From his right side protruded a couteau de chasse; and his legs were not a little set off by the tight-laced boots, which, coming up some way beyond the ancle, displayed his calf to the very best advantage.
The singer's voice was a fine manly tenor, and did ample justice to the words, of which the following may be taken as a free version.
"Mountains! dear mountains! on you have I passed my green youth; to me your breeze has been fragrant from childhood. When may I see the chamois bounding o'er your toppling crags? When, oh when, may I see my fair-haired Mary?"
The minstrel paused--a sound was heard from behind the pavilion. It was the mountain's echo. It continued the air--then died away in the softest harmony. All were charmed. Again the singer stepped forward--the utmost silence prevailed--his tones became more impassioned--they breathed of love.
"Thanks! thanks to thee, gentle echo! Oft hast thou responded to the strains of love my soul poured to--ah me! how beautiful was the fair-haired Mary!"
Again the echo spoke--again all were hushed. The minstrel's voice rose again; but its tones were not akin to joy.
"Why remember this, deceitful echo? War's blast hath blown, and hushed are the notes of love. The foe hath polluted my hearth--I wander an exile. Where, where is Mary?"
The echo faintly but plaintively replied. There were some imagined that a tear really started to the eye of the singer. He struck the guitar wildly--his voice became more agitated--he advanced to the extremity of the balcony.
"My sword! my sword! May my right hand be withered ere it forget to grasp its hilt! One blow for freedom. Freedom--sweet as was the lip--Yes! I'll revenge my Mary!"
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The night came on with its crescent moon and its myriads of stars: just such a night as might have been wished for such a fete. It was in the month of April. April dews, in Britain's variable clime; are not the most salubrious, and April's night air is too often keen and piercing; but the season was an unusually mild one; and the ladies, with their cloaks and their furs, promenaded the well-lighted walks, determined to be pleased and happy.
The giver of the fete was an enterprising Italian. Winter's amusements were over, or neglected--summer's delights were not arrived; and Signor Pacini conceived, that during the dull and monotonous interval, a speculation of his own might prove welcome to the public and beneficial to himself. To do the little man justice, he was indefatigable in his exertions. From door to door he wended his smiling way,--here praising the mother's French, there the daughter's Italian. He gained hosts of partisans. "Of course you patronise Pacini!" was in every one's mouth. The Signor's prospectus stated, that "through the kindness of the steward of an influential nobleman, who was now on the continent, he was enabled to give his fete in the grounds of the Earl of W----; where a full quadrille band would be in attendance, a pavilion pitched on the smooth lawn facing the river, and a comfortable ball room thrown open to a fashionable and enlightened public. The performance would be most various, novel, and exciting. Brilliant fireworks from Vauxhall would delight the eye, and shed a charm on the fairy scene; whilst the car would be regaled with the unequalled harmony of the Styrian brethren, Messrs. Schezer, Lobau, and Berdan, who had very kindly deferred their proposed return to Styria, in order to honour the fete of Signor Pacini."
As night drew on, the mimic thunder of carriages hastening to the scene of action, bespoke the Signor's success. After the ninth hour, his numbers swelled rapidly. Pacini assumed an amusing importance, and his very myrmidons gave out their brass tickets with an air. At ten, a rocket was fired. At this preconcerted signal, the pavilion, hitherto purposely concealed, blazed in a flood of light. On its balcony stood the three Styrian brethren,--although, by the way, they were not brethren at all,--and, striking their harmonious guitars, wooed attention to their strains. The crowd hurried down the walk, and formed round the pavilion. Our party suddenly found themselves near the Vernons. As the gentlemen endeavoured to obtain chairs for the ladies, a crush took place, and Sir Henry was obliged to offer his arm to Julia, who happened to be the nearest of her party. It was with pain Miss Vernon noted his clouded brow, and look of abstraction; but hardly one word of recognition had passed, before the deep voices of the Styrians silenced all. After singing some effective songs, accompanied by a zither, and performing a melodious symphony on a variety of Jew's-harps; Pacini, the manager, advanced to address his auditors, with that air of smiling confidence which no one can assume with better grace than a clever Italian. His dark eye flashed, and his whole features irradiated, as he delivered the following harangue.
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The giver of the fete was an enterprising Italian. Winter's amusements were over, or neglected--summer's delights were not arrived; and Signor Pacini conceived, that during the dull and monotonous interval, a speculation of his own might prove welcome to the public and beneficial to himself. To do the little man justice, he was indefatigable in his exertions. From door to door he wended his smiling way,--here praising the mother's French, there the daughter's Italian. He gained hosts of partisans. "Of course you patronise Pacini!" was in every one's mouth. The Signor's prospectus stated, that "through the kindness of the steward of an influential nobleman, who was now on the continent, he was enabled to give his fete in the grounds of the Earl of W----; where a full quadrille band would be in attendance, a pavilion pitched on the smooth lawn facing the river, and a comfortable ball room thrown open to a fashionable and enlightened public. The performance would be most various, novel, and exciting. Brilliant fireworks from Vauxhall would delight the eye, and shed a charm on the fairy scene; whilst the car would be regaled with the unequalled harmony of the Styrian brethren, Messrs. Schezer, Lobau, and Berdan, who had very kindly deferred their proposed return to Styria, in order to honour the fete of Signor Pacini."
As night drew on, the mimic thunder of carriages hastening to the scene of action, bespoke the Signor's success. After the ninth hour, his numbers swelled rapidly. Pacini assumed an amusing importance, and his very myrmidons gave out their brass tickets with an air. At ten, a rocket was fired. At this preconcerted signal, the pavilion, hitherto purposely concealed, blazed in a flood of light. On its balcony stood the three Styrian brethren,--although, by the way, they were not brethren at all,--and, striking their harmonious guitars, wooed attention to their strains. The crowd hurried down the walk, and formed round the pavilion. Our party suddenly found themselves near the Vernons. As the gentlemen endeavoured to obtain chairs for the ladies, a crush took place, and Sir Henry was obliged to offer his arm to Julia, who happened to be the nearest of her party. It was with pain Miss Vernon noted his clouded brow, and look of abstraction; but hardly one word of recognition had passed, before the deep voices of the Styrians silenced all. After singing some effective songs, accompanied by a zither, and performing a melodious symphony on a variety of Jew's-harps; Pacini, the manager, advanced to address his auditors, with that air of smiling confidence which no one can assume with better grace than a clever Italian. His dark eye flashed, and his whole features irradiated, as he delivered the following harangue.
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"You see a great deal of Miss Vernon. She is a very fascinating and a very amiable person; but from something you once said to me, it has struck me that in some respects she might not suit you."
"I like her society," replied his friend; "but you are right. She would not suit me. You know me pretty well. My hope has ever been to increase, and not diminish the importance of my house. It once stood higher both in wealth and consideration. I see many families springing up around me, that can hardly lay claim to a descent so unblemished I speak not in a spirit of intolerance, nor found my family claim solely on its pedigree; but my ancestors have done good in their generation, and it is a proud thing to be 'the scion of a noble race!'"
"It may be;" said Clarendon quietly, "but I cannot help thinking, that with your affluence, you have every right to follow your own inclination. I know that few of my acquaintances are so independent of the world."
Sir Henry shook his head.
"The day is not very distant, Gage, when a Dacre would hardly have returned two members for my county, if a Delme had willed it otherwise. But there is little occasion for me to have said thus much. Miss Vernon, I trust, has other plans; and I believe my own feelings are not enlisted deep enough, to make me forget the hopes and purposes of half a life-time."
It was some few days after this, when Emily had almost given up looking with interest to the postman's visit, that a letter at last came, directed to Sir Henry; not indeed in George's hand-writing, but with the Malta post mark. Delme read it over thoughtfully, and, assuring Emily that there was nothing to alarm her, left the room to consider its contents.
By the way, we have thought over heartless professions, and cannot help conceiving that of a postman, (it may be conceit!) the most callous and unfeeling of all. He is waited for with more anxiety than any guest of the morning; for his visits invariably convey something new to the mind. He is not love! but he bears it in his pocket; he cannot be friendship! but he daily hawks about its assurances. With all this, knowing his importance, aware of the sensation his appearance calls forth, his very knock is heartless--the tones of his voice cold. Feeling seems denied him; his head is a debtor and creditor account, his departure the receipt, and time alone can say, whether your bargain has been a good or a bad one. He has certainly no assumption--it is one of his few good traits; he walks with his arms in motion, but attempts not a swagger; his knock is unassuming, and his words, though much attended to, are few, and to the point. Why, then, abuse him? We know not, but believe it originates in fear. An intuitive feeling of dread--a rushing presentiment of evil--crosses our mind, as our eye dwells on his thread-bare coat, with its capacious pockets. News of a death--or a marriage--the tender valentine--the remorseless dun--your having been left an estate, or cut off with a shilling--fortune, and misfortune--- he quietly dispenses, as if totally unconscious. Surely such a man--his round performed--cannot quietly sink to the private individual. Can such a man caress his wife, or kiss his child, when he knows not how many hearts are bursting with joy, or breaking with sorrow, from the tidings he has conveyed? To our mind, a postman should be an abstracted visionary being, endowed with a peculiar countenance, betraying the unnatural sparkle of the opium-eater, and evincing intense anxiety at the delivery of each sheet. But these,--they wait not to hear the joyful shout, or heart-rending moan--to know if hope deferred be at length joyful certainty, or bitter only half-expected woe. We dread a postman. Our hand shook, as we last year paid the man of many destinies his demanded Christmas box.
"I like her society," replied his friend; "but you are right. She would not suit me. You know me pretty well. My hope has ever been to increase, and not diminish the importance of my house. It once stood higher both in wealth and consideration. I see many families springing up around me, that can hardly lay claim to a descent so unblemished I speak not in a spirit of intolerance, nor found my family claim solely on its pedigree; but my ancestors have done good in their generation, and it is a proud thing to be 'the scion of a noble race!'"
"It may be;" said Clarendon quietly, "but I cannot help thinking, that with your affluence, you have every right to follow your own inclination. I know that few of my acquaintances are so independent of the world."
Sir Henry shook his head.
"The day is not very distant, Gage, when a Dacre would hardly have returned two members for my county, if a Delme had willed it otherwise. But there is little occasion for me to have said thus much. Miss Vernon, I trust, has other plans; and I believe my own feelings are not enlisted deep enough, to make me forget the hopes and purposes of half a life-time."
It was some few days after this, when Emily had almost given up looking with interest to the postman's visit, that a letter at last came, directed to Sir Henry; not indeed in George's hand-writing, but with the Malta post mark. Delme read it over thoughtfully, and, assuring Emily that there was nothing to alarm her, left the room to consider its contents.
By the way, we have thought over heartless professions, and cannot help conceiving that of a postman, (it may be conceit!) the most callous and unfeeling of all. He is waited for with more anxiety than any guest of the morning; for his visits invariably convey something new to the mind. He is not love! but he bears it in his pocket; he cannot be friendship! but he daily hawks about its assurances. With all this, knowing his importance, aware of the sensation his appearance calls forth, his very knock is heartless--the tones of his voice cold. Feeling seems denied him; his head is a debtor and creditor account, his departure the receipt, and time alone can say, whether your bargain has been a good or a bad one. He has certainly no assumption--it is one of his few good traits; he walks with his arms in motion, but attempts not a swagger; his knock is unassuming, and his words, though much attended to, are few, and to the point. Why, then, abuse him? We know not, but believe it originates in fear. An intuitive feeling of dread--a rushing presentiment of evil--crosses our mind, as our eye dwells on his thread-bare coat, with its capacious pockets. News of a death--or a marriage--the tender valentine--the remorseless dun--your having been left an estate, or cut off with a shilling--fortune, and misfortune--- he quietly dispenses, as if totally unconscious. Surely such a man--his round performed--cannot quietly sink to the private individual. Can such a man caress his wife, or kiss his child, when he knows not how many hearts are bursting with joy, or breaking with sorrow, from the tidings he has conveyed? To our mind, a postman should be an abstracted visionary being, endowed with a peculiar countenance, betraying the unnatural sparkle of the opium-eater, and evincing intense anxiety at the delivery of each sheet. But these,--they wait not to hear the joyful shout, or heart-rending moan--to know if hope deferred be at length joyful certainty, or bitter only half-expected woe. We dread a postman. Our hand shook, as we last year paid the man of many destinies his demanded Christmas box.
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It was not long before he met them in society. The mother was a Mrs. Vernon, a widow, with a large family and small means. Of that family Julia was the fairest flower. As Sir Henry made her acquaintance, and her character unfolded itself, he acknowledged that few could study it without deriving advantage; few without loving her to adoration. That character it would be hard to describe without our description appearing high-flown and exaggerated. It bore an impress of loftiness, totally removed from pride; a moral superiority, which impressed all. With this was united an innate purity, that seemed her birthright; a purity that could not for an instant be doubted. If the libertine gazed on her features, it awoke in him recollections that had long slumbered; of the time when his heart beat but for one. If, in her immediate sphere, any littleness of feeling was brought to her notice, it was met with an intuitive doubt, followed by painful surprise, that such feeling, foreign as she felt it to be to her own nature, could really have existence in that of another.
Thank God! she had seen few of the trickeries of this restless world, in which most of us are struggling against our neighbours; and, if we could look forward with certainty, to the nature of the world beyond this, it is most likely that we should breathe a fervent prayer that she should never witness more.
Her person was a fit receptacle for such a mind. A face all softness, seemed and was the index to a heart all pity. Taller than her compeers,--in all she said or did, a native dignity and a witching grace were exquisitely blended. She was one not easily seen without admiration; but when known, clung Cydippe-like to the heart's mirror, an image over which neither time nor absence possessed controul.
The Delmes resided at Leamington the remainder of the winter, which passed fleetly and happily. Emily, for the first time, gave way to that one feeling, which, to a woman, is the all-important and engrossing one, enjoying her happiness in that full spirit of content, which basking in present joys, attempts not to mar them by ideal disquietudes. The Delmes cultivated the society of the Vernons; Emily and Julia became great friends; and Sir Henry, with all his stoicism, was nourishing an attachment, whose force, had he been aware of it, he would have been at some pains to repress. As it was, he totally overlooked the possibility of his trifling with the feelings of another. He had a number of sage aphorisms to urge against his own entanglement, and, with a moral perverseness, from which the best of us are not free, chose to forget that it was possible his convincing arguments, might neither be known to, nor appreciated by one, on whom their effect might be far from unimportant.
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Thank God! she had seen few of the trickeries of this restless world, in which most of us are struggling against our neighbours; and, if we could look forward with certainty, to the nature of the world beyond this, it is most likely that we should breathe a fervent prayer that she should never witness more.
Her person was a fit receptacle for such a mind. A face all softness, seemed and was the index to a heart all pity. Taller than her compeers,--in all she said or did, a native dignity and a witching grace were exquisitely blended. She was one not easily seen without admiration; but when known, clung Cydippe-like to the heart's mirror, an image over which neither time nor absence possessed controul.
The Delmes resided at Leamington the remainder of the winter, which passed fleetly and happily. Emily, for the first time, gave way to that one feeling, which, to a woman, is the all-important and engrossing one, enjoying her happiness in that full spirit of content, which basking in present joys, attempts not to mar them by ideal disquietudes. The Delmes cultivated the society of the Vernons; Emily and Julia became great friends; and Sir Henry, with all his stoicism, was nourishing an attachment, whose force, had he been aware of it, he would have been at some pains to repress. As it was, he totally overlooked the possibility of his trifling with the feelings of another. He had a number of sage aphorisms to urge against his own entanglement, and, with a moral perverseness, from which the best of us are not free, chose to forget that it was possible his convincing arguments, might neither be known to, nor appreciated by one, on whom their effect might be far from unimportant.
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Delme had long designed some internal improvements in the mansion; and as workmen would necessarily be employed, had proposed that our family party should pass a few weeks at a watering place, until these were completed. They were not without hopes, that George might there join them, as Emily had written to Malta, pressing him to be present at her wedding.
We have elsewhere said, that Sir Henry had arrived at middle age, before one feeling incompatible with his ambitious thoughts arose. It was at Leamington this feeling had imperceptibly sprung up; and to Leamington they were now going.
Is there an electric chain binding hearts predestined to love?
Hath Providence ordained, that on our first interview with that being, framed to meet our wishes and our desires--the rainbow to our cloud, and the sun to our noon-day--hath it ordained that there should also be given us some undefinable token--some unconscious whispering from the heart's inmost spirit?
Who may fathom these inscrutable mysteries?
Sir Henry had been visiting an old schoolfellow, who had a country seat near Leamington. He was riding homewards, through a sequestered and wooded part of the park, when he was aware of the presence of two ladies, evidently a mother and daughter. They sate on one side of the rude path, on an old prostrate beech tree. The daughter, who was very beautiful, was sketching a piece of fern for a foreground: the mother was looking over the drawing. Neither saw the equestrian.
It was a fair sight to regard the young artist, with her fine profile and drooping eyelid, bending over the drawing, like a Grecian statue; then to note the calm features upturn, and forget the statue in the breathing woman. At intervals, her auburn tresses would fall on the paper, and sweep the pencil's efforts. At such times, she would remove them with her small hand, with such a soft smile, and gentle grace, that the very action seemed to speak volumes for her feminine sympathies. Delme disturbed them not, but making a tour through the grove of beech trees, reached Leamington in thoughtful mood.
We have elsewhere said, that Sir Henry had arrived at middle age, before one feeling incompatible with his ambitious thoughts arose. It was at Leamington this feeling had imperceptibly sprung up; and to Leamington they were now going.
Is there an electric chain binding hearts predestined to love?
Hath Providence ordained, that on our first interview with that being, framed to meet our wishes and our desires--the rainbow to our cloud, and the sun to our noon-day--hath it ordained that there should also be given us some undefinable token--some unconscious whispering from the heart's inmost spirit?
Who may fathom these inscrutable mysteries?
Sir Henry had been visiting an old schoolfellow, who had a country seat near Leamington. He was riding homewards, through a sequestered and wooded part of the park, when he was aware of the presence of two ladies, evidently a mother and daughter. They sate on one side of the rude path, on an old prostrate beech tree. The daughter, who was very beautiful, was sketching a piece of fern for a foreground: the mother was looking over the drawing. Neither saw the equestrian.
It was a fair sight to regard the young artist, with her fine profile and drooping eyelid, bending over the drawing, like a Grecian statue; then to note the calm features upturn, and forget the statue in the breathing woman. At intervals, her auburn tresses would fall on the paper, and sweep the pencil's efforts. At such times, she would remove them with her small hand, with such a soft smile, and gentle grace, that the very action seemed to speak volumes for her feminine sympathies. Delme disturbed them not, but making a tour through the grove of beech trees, reached Leamington in thoughtful mood.
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