"Why, Frank, one would think that you were a sultan with his handkerchief. There is Lady Selina Armstrong."

"Well, she is a very fine girl, and talks well."

"There is Harriet Butler, who has just come out."

"I saw her at the last ball we were at--a very pretty creature."

"Lady Jemima Calthorpe."

"Not very good-looking, but clever and agreeable."

"There is Louisa Manners, who is very much admired."

"I admire her very much myself."

"Well, Frank, you have exhausted my catalogue. There is not one I have mentioned who is not unexceptionable, and whom I would gladly embrace as a daughter-in-law. You are now turned of forty, my dear son, and must make up your mind to have heirs to the t.i.tle and estates. I am however afraid that your admiration is so general, that you will be puzzled in your choice."

"I will confess to you, my dearest mother, that I have many years thought of the necessity of taking to myself a wife, but have never yet had courage to decide. I admit that if all the young women you have mentioned were what they appear to be, a man need not long hesitate in his choice; but the great difficulty is, that their real tempers and dispositions are not to be ascertained till it is too late. Allow that I should attempt to discover the peculiar disposition of every one of them, what would be the consequence?--that my attentions would be perceived. I do not exactly mean to accuse them of deceit; but a woman is naturally flattered by perceiving herself an object of attraction; and, when flattered, is pleased. It is not likely, therefore, that the infirmities of her temper (if she have any) should be discovered by a man whose presence is a source of gratification. If artful, she will conceal her faults; if not so there will be no occasion to bring them to light. And even if, after a long courtship, something wrong should be discovered, either you have proceeded too far in honour to retract, or are so blinded by your own feelings as to extenuate it. Now it is only the parents and near relations of a young woman who can be witnesses to her real character, unless it be indeed her own maid, whom one could not condescend to interrogate."

"That is all very true, Frank; but recollect the same observations apply to your s.e.x as well as ours. Lovers and husbands are very different beings. It is quite a lottery on both sides."

"I agree with you, my dear mother; and as marry I must, so shall it be a lottery with me; I will leave it to chance, and not to myself: then, if I am unfortunate, I will blame my stars and not have to accuse myself of a want of proper discrimination." Lord Aveleyn took up a sheet of paper, and dividing it into small slips, wrote upon them the names of the different young ladies proposed by his mother. Folding them up, he threw them on the table before her, and requested that she would select any one of the papers.

The dowager took up one.

"I thank you, madam," said Lord Aveleyn, taking the paper from her hand, and opening it--"'Louisa Manners.' Well, then, Louisa Manners it shall be; always provided that she does not refuse me. I will make my first advances this very afternoon; that is, if it does not clear up, and I can take out the pointers."

"You surely are joking, Frank?"

"Never was more serious. I have my mother's recommendation, backed by fate. Marry I must, but choose I will not. I feel myself desperately in love with the fair Louisa already. I will report my progress to you, my dear madam, in less than a fortnight."

Lord Aveleyn adhered to his singular resolution, courted, and was accepted. He never had reason to repent his choice; who proved to be as amiable as her countenance would have indicated. The fruits of his marriage was one son, who was watched over with mingled pride and anxiety, and who had now arrived at the age of fifteen years.

Such was the history of Lord Aveleyn, who continued to extend his friendship to Edward Forster, and if he had required it, would gladly have proffered his a.s.sistance, in return for the kindness which Forster had shown towards him when he was a midshipman. The circ.u.mstances connected with the history of the little Amber were known to Lord Aveleyn and his lady, and the wish of Forster, that his little charge should derive the advantage of mixing in good female society, was gladly acceded to, both on his account and on her own. Amber would often remain for days at the mansion, and was a general favourite, as well as an object of sympathy.

But the growth of their son, too rapid for his years, and which brought with it symptoms of pulmonary disease, alarmed Lord and Lady Aveleyn; and by the advice of the physicians, they broke up their establishment, and hastened with him to Madeira, to re-establish his health. Their departure was deeply felt both by Forster and his charge; and before they could recover from the loss; another severe trial awaited them in the death of Mrs Beazeley, who, full of years and rheumatism, was gathered to her fathers. Forster, habituated as he was to the old lady, felt her loss severely; he was now with Amber, quite alone; and it so happened that in the following winter his wound broke out, and confined him to his bed until the spring.

As he lay in a precarious state, the thought naturally occurred to him, "What will become of this poor child if I am called away? There is not the slightest provision for her: she has no friends; and I have not even made it known to any of my own that there is such a person in existence." Edward Forster thought of his brother, the lawyer, whom he knew still to be flourishing, although he had never corresponded with him, and resolved that as soon as he was able to undertake the journey, he would go to town, and secure his interest for the little Amber, in case of any accident happening to himself.

The spring and summer pa.s.sed away before he found himself strong enough to undertake the journey. It was late in the autumn that Edward Forster and Amber took their places in a heavy coach for the metropolis, and arrived without accident on the day or two subsequent to that on which Nicholas and Newton had entered it on foot.

Newton Forster--Captain Marryat

VOLUME TWO, CHAPTER TEN.

Through coaches, drays, choked turnpikes, and a whirl Of wheels, and roar of voices, and confusion, Here taverns wooing to a pint of "purl,"

There mails fast flying off; like a delusion.

Through this, and much and more, is the approach Of travellers to mighty Babylon; Whether they come by horse, or chair, or coach, With slight exceptions, all the ways seem one.

BYRON.

When Newton Forster and his father arrived at London, they put up at an obscure inn in the Borough. The next day Newton set off to discover the residence of his uncle. The people of the inn had recommended him to apply to some stationer or bookseller, who would allow him to look over a red-book; and in compliance with these instructions, Newton stopped at a shop in Fleet-street, on the doors of which was written in large gilt letters--"Law Bookseller." The young men in the shop were very civil and obliging, and, without referring to the Guide, immediately told him the residence of a man so well known as his uncle; and Newton hastened in the direction pointed out.

It was one of those melancholy days in which London wears the appearance of a huge scavenger's cart. A lurid fog and mizzling rain, which had been incessant for the previous twenty-four hours; sloppy pavements, and kennels down which the muddy torrents hastened to precipitate themselves in the sewers below; armies of umbrellas, as far as the eye could reach, now rising, now lowering, to avoid collision; hackney-coaches in active sloth, their miserable cattle plodding along with their backs arched and heads and tails drooping like barn-door fowls crouching under the cataract of a gutter; clacking of pattens and pestering of sweepers; not a smile upon the countenance of one individual of the mult.i.tude which pa.s.sed him;--all appeared anxiety, bustle, and selfishness. Newton was not sorry when he turned down the narrow court which had been indicated to him, and, disengaged from the throng of men, commenced a more rapid course. In two minutes he was at the door of his uncle's chambers, which, notwithstanding the inclemency of the weather, stood wide open, as if there should be no obstacle in a man's way, or a single moment for reflection allowed him, if he wished to entangle himself in the expenses and difficulties of the law. Newton furled his weeping umbrella, and first looking with astonishment at the mud which had acc.u.mulated above the calves of his legs, raised his eyes to the jambs on each side, where in large letters, he read at the head of a long list of occupants, "Mr Forster, Ground Floor." A door with Mr Forster's name on it, within a few feet of him, next caught his eye. He knocked, and was admitted by the clerk, who stated that his master was at a consultation, but was expected back in half an hour, if he could wait so long. Newton a.s.sented, and was ushered into the parlour, where the clerk presented the newspaper of the day to amuse him until the arrival of his uncle.

As soon as the door was closed Newton's curiosity as to the character of his uncle induced him to scrutinise the apartment and its contents. In the centre of the room, which might have been about fourteen feet square, stood a table, with a shadow lamp placed before the only part of it which was left vacant for the use of the pen. The remainder of the s.p.a.ce was loaded with parchment upon parchment, deed upon deed, paper upon paper. Some, especially those underneath, had become dark and discoloured by time; the ink had changed to a dull red, and the imprint of many a thumb inferred how many years they had been in existence, and how long they had lain as sad mementos of the law's delay. Others were fresh and clean, the j.a.panned ink in strong contrast with the glossy parchment, new cases of litigation fresh as the hopes of those who had been persuaded by flattering a.s.surances to enter into a labyrinth of vexation, from which, perhaps, not to be extricated until these doc.u.ments should a.s.sume the hue of the others, which silently indicated the blighted hopes of protracted litigation. Two ma.s.sive iron chests occupied the walls on each side of the fireplace; and round the whole area of the room were piled one upon another large tin boxes, on which, in legible Roman characters, were written the names of the parties whose property was thus immured. There they stood like so many sepulchres of happiness, mausoleums raised over departed competence, while the names of the parties inscribed appeared as so many registers of the folly and contention of man.

But from all this Newton could draw no other conclusion than that his uncle had plenty of business. The fire in the grate was on so small a scale, that although he shivered with wet and cold, Newton was afraid to stir it, lest it should go out altogether. From this circ.u.mstance he drew a hasty and unsatisfactory conclusion that his uncle was not very partial to spending his money.

But he hardly had time to draw these inferences and then take up the newspaper, when the door opened, and another party was ushered into the room by the clerk, who informed him, as he handed a chair, that Mr Forster would return in a few minutes.

The personage thus introduced was a short young man, with a round face, bushy eyebrows, and dogged countenance, implying wilfulness, without ill-nature. As soon as he entered he proceeded to divest his throat of a large shawl, which he hung over the back of a chair; then doffing his great-coat, which was placed in a similar position, he rubbed his hands, and walked up to the fire, into which he insinuated the poker, and immediately destroyed the small symptoms of combustion which remained, reducing the whole to one chaos of smoke.

"Better have left it alone, I believe," observed he, re-inserting the poker, and again stirring up the black ma.s.s, for the fire was now virtually defunct.

"You're not cold, I hope, sir?" said the party, turning to Newton.

"No, sir, not very," replied Newton, good-humouredly.

"I thought so; clients never are; nothing like law for _keeping you warm_, sir. Always bring on your cause in the winter months. I do, if I can, for it's positive suffocation in the dog-days!"

"I really never was _at law_," replied Newton, laughing; "but if ever I have the misfortune, I shall recollect your advice."

"Never was at law! I was going to say, what the devil brings you here?

but that would have been an impertinent question.--Well, sir, do you know there was a time at which I never knew what law was," continued the young man, seating himself in a chair opposite to Newton. "It was many years ago, when I was a younger brother and had no property: no one took the trouble to go to law with me; for if they gained their cause there were no effects. Within the last six years I have inherited a considerable property, and am always in hot water. I heard that the lawyers say, 'causes produce effects.' I am sure I can say that 'effects have produced causes!'"

"I am sorry that your good fortune should be coupled with such a drawback."

"Oh, it's nothing! It's just to a man what a clog is to a horse in a field, you know pretty well where to find him. I'm so used to it-- indeed so much so, that I should feel rather uncomfortable if I had nothing on my hands: just keeps me from being idle. I've been into every court in the metropolis, and have no fault to find with one of them, except the Court of Rights."

"And pray, sir, what is that Court, and the objection you have to it?"

"Why, as to the Court, it's the most confounded rascal; but I must be careful how I speak before strangers, you'll excuse me, sir (not that I suspect you, but I know what may be considered as a libel). I shall therefore just state, that it is a court at which no gentleman can appear; and if he does, it's of no use, for he'll never get a verdict in his favour."

"What, then it is not a court of justice?"

"Court of justice! no, it's a court for the recovery of small debts: but I'll just tell you, sir, exactly what took place with me in that court, and then you will be able to judge for yourself. I had a dog; sir, it was just after I came into my property; his name was Caesar, and a very good dog he was. Well, sir, riding out one day about four miles from town, a rabbit put his nose out of a cellar, where they retailed potatoes. Caesar pounced upon him, and the rabbit was dead in a moment.

The man who owned the rabbit and the potatoes, came up to me and asked my name, which I told him; at the same time, I expressed my sorrow at the accident, and advised him in future to keep his rabbits in hutches.

He said he would, and demanded three shillings and sixpence for the one which the dog had killed. Now, although he was welcome to advice, money was quite another thing; so he went one way, muttering something about law, and I another, with Caesar at my heels, taking no notice of his threat. Well, sir, in a few days my servant came up to say that somebody wished to see me upon _particular_ business, and I ordered him to be shown up. It was a blackguard-looking fellow, who put a piece of dirty paper in my hand; summoned me to appear at some dog-hole or another, I forget where. Not understanding the business, I enclosed it to a legal friend, who returned an answer, that it was a summons to the Court of Rights; that no gentleman could go there; and that I had better let the thing take its course. I had forgotten all about it, when, in a few days, a piece of paper was brought to me, by which I found that the Court adjudged me to pay 1 pound, 2 shillings, 6 pence, for damages and costs. I asked who brought it, and was told it was the son of the potato-merchant, accompanied by a tipstaff. I requested the pleasure of their company, and asked the legal gentleman what it was for.

"'Eighteen shillings, for ten rabbits destroyed by your dog, and 4 shillings, 6 pence, for costs of court.'

"'Ten rabbits!' exclaimed I; 'why he only killed one.'

"'Yes, sir,' squeaked out the young potato-merchant; 'but it was a doe rabbit, in the family way; we counted nine young ones, all killed too!'

"'Shameful!' replied I. 'Pray, sir, did your father tell the Court that the rabbits were not born?'