(though here also without success) to render as fixed as he could, that all church ceremonies were useless, and almost all churchmen insincere. He was indeed too naturally just not to feel uneasy at this; for he had a disposition, particularly in his youth, to feel All various Nature pressing on the heart; and he was always happiest when most under that influence. At the same time, a listless temper, operating upon an over-delicate taste, made him too often reject what, if not rejected, might have made him happy. Tremaine's unsatisfied mind having induced him to reject the church, he endeavoured to find anchorage in the certainty of the law. Accordingly, for about twelve months, he studied its philosophy in the moralists—its antiquities in the historians-and its rewards in the splendour which attends upon the eloquence of counsel, and the honours of the Bench. But he studied them in his lodgings in May Fair, not at the Temple: for except at the only dinner he ate in the Temple Hall, when he endeavoured to keep a term, he never was known to have been in an Inn of Court. He once, indeed, heard the Chancellor from the woolsack in the House of Lords, on a great constitutional question; and he once heard a distinguished popular advocate, in mitigation of the crime of a young woman of high birth, who, sacrificed by her family to a man she could not love, and who did not love her, fell, after a struggle, into the arms of a man, who had always possessed her heart. It was the impression produced by these speeches that sent him to the law; but the bent of character above described soon sent him back again. His over-delicate and sickly fancy could not endure law society. The hard sense, indeed, which he there met with, sometimes arrested his understanding; but the pedantry with which it was attired absolutely petrified him. Spoiled by his prejudices, he stayed not to discover, as he might have done, the genius, taste and real elegance of mind which belong to many who are yet the most learned at the bar. As to their females,-having once ventured to one of their assemblies in Lincoln's-Inn-Fields, he escaped, after an hour's purgatory, vowing never to see another; and no arguments of his friends could persuade him that happiness of any kind could be found in what he called such a second-rate profession. Though his patrimony was now almost exhausted, he betook himself to arms, and entered the Guards. Here at least he was sure of finding honourable feeling, polished manners, and gallantry of spirit. He made a campaign, and obtained distinction; that is, such distinction as a captain of a company could acquire. But from the lateness of his entry into the army, he had the mortification to find himself commanded by persons some years his juniors. It is true, his family interest placed him at head-quarters. But it was not there that he was always likely to feel satisfied. He was indeed remarked as a sort of frondeur, who was ever commending merit which others did not choose to allow, and advocating the claims of officers who had nothing but their friendlessness to recommend them. Yet he was often forced to confess, that even these by no means reached, in personal qualifications, the high notions he had formed of the military character; and some of them at last, abandoning him as their protector, got before him by the lowest arts of flattery, and the most vicious complaisance. This excited new disgusts. "The whole constitution of the army," he said," was wrong; it was a mistake to suppose it composed of gentlemen; it neither rewarded nor ennobled its members." In this state of things, he came to a downright quarrel with his general (a relation of his own), for sending home one of his staff with the intelligence of a victory, when another had distinguished himself more in the battle. It was in vain the general condescended to point out, that, in order to avoid invidious distinction, a rule had been adopted to send home officers in their turn. He served out the campaign, and at the end of it quitted the army, with some addition to his reputation on the score of gallantry, and not a little on the score of discontent. Thus situated, his mind soured, his hopes crossed, his youth wasted, and his fortune spent, an employment of some consequence was offered him about the court: but, as it was also a political employment, which required its possessor to support the minister, and as the politics of his family had ever led them to opposition, he unhesitatingly declined it; assigning the true reason. This gave him considerable éclat; particularly as he was known to be poor: and it was under these circumstances, that, by the death of an uncle and cousin nearly at the same time, he suddenly found himself master of an im mense estate. Tremaine was now not far from thirty, and his heart beat high at the prospects before him. He resolved to be happy and if the indulgence of a disposition boundless in generosity, and naturally kind, could confer happiness, he ought to have found it; for it were endless to recount the instances of his active bounty to all who stood in need of it. But with all this, he was more spoilt than ever. Though no longer in the heyday of youth, he might yet be called young; and all things seemed to court him. Yet his temper grew more and more delicate; and as to his natural fastidiousness, never having discovered that, he of course took no pains to correct it. At the same time he had formed to himself strange notions (not, indeed, arising from personal vanity, but from feelings less likely to make him happy) of the power of his situation, combined with his acquirements, always to make his mind suffice to itself, without the least dependence upon the world. CHAPTER III. THE AMOURETTES OF A MAN OF REFINEMENT. Full many a lady I have eyed with best regards, and many a time With so full a soul, but some defect in her SHAKSPEARE. WERE the fair, then, neglected by Mr. Tremaine all this time? or did they neglect him?—Not so on either side. The sort of reputation he had made, even before his accession to fortune; his manners, figure, and features, in all of which there was a certain loftiness; his very finery itself (to use the term often applied to it in the world of fashion) had made him a person of no small consideration among the ladies. What must he be now, that he was one of the best matches in England? daughters had courted him before; the mothers courted him now. At this, not only his integrity was disgusted, but his self-love was alarmed. There was nothing he dreaded so much as the chance of not being beloved for his own sake. The Yet as we have said he was susceptible (and he certainly was so), one would have supposed there had been opportunity of putting this out of doubt, before his hopes were, as he said, marred by his attainment to wealth. They were marred, however, by himself; for his own nice breeding and habits prevented his inclinations, for the most part, from going beyond a certain point. His enemies, or rather his enviers (of whom he had not a few), gave an air even of ridicule to some of what they called his amourettes: for they said he was too fine for an amour. It was said too (and in this there was some truth), that in his youth he had conceived a passion for the handsome daughter of the head of the college to which he belonged; and that the inclination was even mutual, and that all expected a marriage; but that the whole affair was put an end to in a moment, by the unhappy accident of a windy walk up Headington hill. It was not that the fair one's leg was either thick or crooked for it was even remarkably well shaped. But the scandal went on to say, that a garter, which happened to fall on the occasion, was considerably the worse for wear. Certain it is that the affair was broken off immediately; nor could all the kind and graceful looks, nor the real merit of the lady, afterwards move him. Another growing passion was reported to have been nipped in the bud, by the fair one not being sufficiently sentimental; a third, by her being too much so; a fourth, by his detecting her in reading Tom Jones; a fifth, by her having eaten her peas with a knife; and scandal added that one of his predilections for a young lady of the very first quality in France, was sickened to death, by telling him one day qu'elle avait pris médecine! Had this sensible though fastidious heart never, then, met with an object which he thought really worth its attachment? Yes! and the event coloured much of his life. It is rather a long story, and the reader might possibly be content to escape it; but as it developes much of the character and heart of this romantic man, we must afford a few minutes to its relation. It was on a May evening, in the province of Auvergne in France, that Tremaine found himself on the banks of the little river Allier; which, after watering this beautiful province, falls into the Loire. It was after his accession to fortune. The sun had just set: and those who have ever known the climate of the countries adjacent to the Loire, are acquainted with the impressions made on the senses by the softest air in the world tempering the glow of the retreating day. The rippling of |