in his life than at this moment; excepting, indeed, when he first beheld my mother in the garden of the Tuilleries. "Beautiful! beautiful!" I exclaimed, with no less enthusiasm than himself. "Do you hear that thrush, my boy, how merrily it sings ?" 66 Sweetly-very sweetly!" and I remember to have added, that I would like to be a thrush. "What a delightful spot we have chosen for our residence!" he continued: "why should I waste a a thought upon England? She has made me a baronet, it is true; but she has also endeavoured to trample me in the dust, and I heap upon her my curses. Away with all this shallow attachment to one's country, when it renders man the most degraded of vassals.” Being an admirer of England myself, I cannot consent to record the whole of this vituperative speech; because I know that my father continued to harbour many prejudices in her favour. His concluding words, however, on this occasion, I cannot refrain from placing before the reader. They were so emphatically spoken, as to fix themselves indelibly on my memory. 66 Henceforth, I will number myself among the citizens of a free community!" CHAPTER III. The letters were received, and proved to be a curious medley. Political Budget. WHEN my father concluded to remain permanently at Essex, he went about erecting a suitable dwelling, which he constructed with a particular regard to neatness as well as comfort. It had its parlours-dining-rooms-museum; and-notwithstanding his aversion to books-its library. When these arrangements were completed, it was discovered that my education had been sadly neglected. My mother proposed that I should be sent to Mr. Jenkins, a very respectable man, who taught a "select school for young gentlemen❞— meaning, of course, for all who made application. "No!" I vehemently exclaimed. College was suggested. "No!" I shouted with redoubled fury, throwing down a vase of flowers, to show how terribly I was enraged. My mother cried, and hinted at a private tutor. VOL. I.-C This was more to my fancy; accordingly, the services of a teacher, "every way qualified," were immediately engaged. The name of this gentleman was Lionel Wafer; and it cannot be denied that he was in every respect an exemplary man; at least, so said all the old women. He was deacon of the village, and understood well the Latin and Greek, besides a few rules of arithmetic, and some other small matters, whereby he was enabled to support a wife and ten children. By the way, one of the most earnest prayers that the deacon was ever heard to offer up, was, that the Lord (should it be consistent with his divine will,) might not send him an increase of family. Lionel Wafer gave private lessons—or rather, he had “no objections” to so doing-in all the principal families of Essex; and under his auspices I was to commence my studies. What shall I say next? I almost regret that I ever commenced this history. One must be continually talking of one's self; and egotism, we all know, is detestable. I have a small bundle of curious letters, partly in relation to myself, which were written by my mother, during the first year of her residence at Essex, to an aunt in London. I shall venture to make a few extracts. We have just completed our new house. I am so charmed with it and the country that I do not think I shall ever return to Europe. Were you only here to accompany me in my evening rambles, I cannot tell how much I should be delighted! "A small party of Indians passed through our village the other day, on their way to Philadelphia. Among them was an old war-chief, called Cauminuzhewaid, (what a name!) which signifies, when interpreted, a murderer. The border whites of this country have suffered severely from his cruelty; nevertheless, he is an object of general attraction—particularly with the ladies. This strange and unaccountable race of beings" (she means the Indians, of course, and not the ladies,) "are, I am told, gradually disappearing. They cannot exist except when they breathe their own mountain air, and fish unmolested in their own waters. * * "Paul is as full of mischief as ever. I fear some evil destiny awaits this reckless boy; and it would be a pity, you know, that such a promising youth should be spoiled. I doubt not but you remember our old friend, the Countess of ? She was very fond of Paul, from the time he was a child. Sweet woman! she used to part his curling locks, and kiss him, and say he was pretty. How one can remember these things! Alas! the poor countess! I always had a great love for her. Is it not a pity that she has taken to herself such a churl (as they say he is) for a husband!* I hear she has grown very thin. Pray, is it so? "P.S. Don't forget to send me out by the next packet, a few bottles of the newly invented cream of amber, for the improvement of the skin." Such is a portion of the contents of my mother's first letter. Now for the second, which the reader need not peruse if he likes not the first. "A ship sails in a few days, by which I am enabled to continue our correspondence. I plead guilty of having been somewhat remiss of late; but I hope you will be kind enough to overlook my neglect, and attribute it to any other cause than a want of affection. * * * "Paul is growing more mischievous and wicked every day. You may remember the beautiful *The countess was married a short time after her arrival in Florence |