182 Lights and Shadows of London Life, 



this project, and it was not till the beginning of autumn that he 

 finally left home. This boy, naturally of a high spirit and sanguine 

 temperament, had during those few months obviously undergone a 

 powerful moral change. Whether the latent fire was still there, the 

 surface, as formerly, displayed no sign of the volcano beneath. His 

 pony, ever his sole holiday occupation, was now neglected. It was 

 clear that his mind had begun its destined labour, and that the har- 

 vest returned no crop of grateful produce. He had exchanged the 

 robust and active enjoyments of buoyant youth for the graver occu- 

 pations of maturer years. 



The season enabled him to pass almost the whole of every day 

 abroad ; there were no social ties to bind him ; boy though he was, 

 he could not bear to contemplate the hourly desecration of that 

 sacred temple of our earliest, and dearest, and holiest feelings home. 

 The grounds by which the house was encircled were not extensive, 

 but they were sufficiently capacious to permit the little wanderers to 

 wile away the summer's day. The Severn was their boundary for 

 the greatest part of their extent. On the margin of that brightest 

 of England's rivers, together they would sit for hours; the busy 

 pleasures of their years had not for them their accustomed allure- 

 ments; their characters, assuming the tone of their position, had 

 formed a bias apart from that of their young compeers. It was thus 

 that the most real of their enjoyments appeared to be in abstraction 

 and repose ; at noon or eve they were found together under the green 

 alley that spread its shelter down to the river's edge, or seated by 

 the stream gazing idly upon the lucid mirror that flowed before them. 

 Such was the tranquil dawn of existence for these children : 



"Silent and pensive, idle, restless, slow, 

 Their home deserted for the lonely wood," 



they had wasted away many a summer-day, and now the hour of 

 their separation was at hand. 



It was on the day which preceded that fixed for his departure for 

 Eton, that for the last time the silent and meditative boy led his 

 weeping companion on a farewell visit to their favourite haunts. 

 They had loitered long and fondly on every cherished spot : here 

 the earliest violets had been gathered ; that bank wore the first 

 primroses. At length they stood beside the calm and placid water: 

 " Mima," said the youth, and he spoke hurriedly, for he felt that his 

 voice failed him, and his face was turned aside to conceal the tears 

 that dimmed his sight, " the hour for which I often longed is arrived, 

 and I am now sad that it is come ; Eton has been long the goal of 

 rny wishes ; now I would, were it possible, that I might remain here; 

 it is not that I love my home, but sad and cheerless as it has been to 

 you since you have known it, I fear it will not improve when your 

 dull and stupid cousin is gone. Dear, dear Mima, I know not if we 

 shall ever meet again ; I have asked my father, I have implored my 

 mother to tell me whether you are to remain or return whence you 

 came ; they have answered me, sometimes with anger, always 

 evasively. Of my own prospects I am equally uninformed, but while 

 I live you will have a constant, changeless friend ; do not cry, my 



