THE LEGEND OF THE ABBEY TOWER. 99 



marked, that, after the death of his wife, whose existence he had 

 embittered by almost incessant whim and waspishness, (but whose 

 tomb he decorated with much sculptural pomp, and inscribed with 

 the fondest testimonies of affection,) he became even more petulant 

 to the surviving members of his household. *Ah, sir,^ he would 

 say to his son, ^it is well your poor mother is not here to witness 

 your folly — but she's gone — gone sir — the comforter of my life and 

 the affectionate fosterer of yours, sleeps in her grave, sir — in her 



grave — and d me, sir, what d'ye mean by that supercilious 



smile ? Do I speak an untruth, sir ? Is she not dead, sir ? and are 

 you not an ungrateful puppy ? and am I not your father, sir ? I 

 am, sir ; and, as such, I have — mildly — to — request — sir — that you 

 will walk out of this room, sir !' 



It must not be supposed that young Baldwin ventured upon a 

 reply to this precious outpouring of paternal wrath. The fact is 

 simply this : the baronet would have been even more puzzled than 

 the object of his anger, to explain that anger's cause. The meaning 

 of the smile which gave it such increased impetus may be easily 

 conjectured ; for a more close and uninterrupted attachment than 

 that between the son and his deceased mother, had never existed ; 

 and the former too well knew, that if his fond parent had been liv- 

 ing at the moment, his testy papa would have found cause for 

 abusing two innocent people instead of one. But the baronet was 

 rather ingenious at these amusing contrivances, and would often fall 

 into a maudlin reverie on the subject of ' poor dear lady B.' with a 

 most convenient forgetfulness of the desperate life he had led her. 



The course of my narrative has now introduced to you the hero, 

 of whom I must, of course, afford a portrait not less finished than 

 the baronet's : but I must premise (as you are a young man,) with 

 an observation or two, as to the proper share of sympathy to be 

 awarded to young gentlemen of Baldwin's kind and condition. 

 Their characters may be most exemplary as to integrity of purpose, 

 while their conduct may exhibit more of the picturesque than the 

 prudential, and may serve rather as material for the pen of the novel- 

 ist than as a model for practical life. I admire Lord Byron's poetry 

 prodigiously, but have no patience with a certain fry of young 

 readers, who, mistaking the narrow limitation of their common sense 

 for a superior expansion of heart and philanthropy, sweep back the 

 hair from their foreheads, fold down their shirt collars, (though here, 

 by the way, I rather object to the motive than the manner,) wear 

 loose trowsers and sailors' jackets, fold their arms over their breasts, 

 fix their eyes upon their neighbour's daughter, involve their friends 



