Lights and Shadows of London Life. 183 



own dear cousin I can hardly keep from tears myself, and I do not 

 wish any but you should know that I am so weak. You will not for- 

 get me; should you continue here, you will walk often where we 

 have walked together, and you will sit upon this river's brink, and 

 call to mind one who loves you better than any thing in the broad 

 world. Come, my cousin, you must not be so sad; God will bless and 

 guard you ; I know not what He may destine for me, but be it good 

 or evil, whatever my lot, I shall ever dearly remember the time we 

 have passed together, and through every scene of my life I shall 

 cherish the memory of the sunny looks I have so often seen mirrored 

 in this fair stream." 



That night the farewell was said, and the next sun was yet unrisen 

 as the scion of this ill-omened house entered upon his pilgrimage. 

 For the first time he went forth alone ; but the elastic spirit of youth 

 was not seen bounding in his step. Hope's radiance shone not in the 

 eye that recent sorrow had robb'd of its light, and dimmed with 

 weeping. Was not the augury of the precise old man, as he closed 

 the door of the carriage, well founded did he not soothly divine 

 who thus ejaculated, " There is but scanty promise in that life whose 

 young days are thus baptized in bitterness?" 



CHAPTER IV. 



The season in the zenith of which this narrative commences had 

 drawn to a close, but Chalcroft was yet in town. Those who knew 

 him best spoke of a change in his manner, but it excited little obser- 

 vation and less interest among men who found their w stock of sym- 

 pathy slender enough for their own uses. It was rumoured that the 

 " stud of a gentleman," which was advertised for sale at Tattersall's, 

 had some connexion with his lengthened sojourn, and one or two of 

 his most particular friends intimated an intention of becoming pur- 

 chasers, "should the cavalry turn out a profitable investment." 

 August came, and London was a desert. 



Autumn and winter passed, and again the returning season saw 

 the tide of fashion set at flood for the metropolis, but one of the 

 barques of pleasure that had floated so gallantly when last it ebbed 

 came not with its gladsome waters. Another year came and went, 

 and the name of Chalcroft was forgotten by many a reveller, who in 

 the vintage of his prosperity had "drank of his cup and been merry." 



Ere we follow the progress of his fortunes, we will trace briefly 

 his career upon his entrance at Eton up to man's estate. Four years 

 had been consumed between the usual alternation of classics and 

 gymnastics common to that aristocratic grove of Academus, and at 

 fourteen he was " a little gentleman from top to toe." Whatever 

 may be urged against Eton, none can gainsay the gloss of fashion by 

 which all its young philosophers are distinguished ; and whether the 

 course of its studies be, or be not, such as best may tend to produce 

 a scholar, without cavil none was ever better calculated to mould the 

 human clay to the ornamental purposes of society. At every anni- 

 versary visit he found the social condition of his home still worse and 

 worse, and when he quitted it for Oxford, its circumstances were all 



