T. H. (Thomas Henry) Lister.

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Wondrous it is to see in diverse mindcs
How diversly love doth his pageants play,

And shews his power in variable kindes :
The baser wit whose idle thoughts alway
Are wont to cleave unto the lowly clay, j

It stlrreth up to sensual desire,
And in lewd slothe to waste the careless day ;

But in brave sprite it kindles goodly fire,

That to all high desert and honour doth aspire.


or college,
and you have no profession to take up your
time. Besides, I think people would begin to
notice your very slight acquaintance with your
nearest relations ; and they might suspect that
there was some coolness between us ; which yo\i
know, Harry, is not the case,"

" Certainly, Sir; and to tell you the truth, I
have often thought it strange that so little com-
munication should ever have taken place between
ourselves and Lord Malton, though no unkind-
ness appeared to exist, and he was always very
ready to do what you asked him. I have fre-
quently turned it in my mind; but as it was a
delicate subject, I never liked to mention all I
thought. Since my late visit, too, I can less
account for his conduct than before, from his
pointed inquiries after you, and very kind at-
tention to myself. It is certainly singular that


I should never have been at Tedworth till the
other day ; and Lord Malton does not seem a
retired man, but I should think, on the contrary,
rather given to hospitality."

" You are very right, so he is ; I am glad to
see that he has made a favourable impression."

" Yes, Sir, in some respects he has. He
showed no want of disposition to treat me with
the kindness of a relation, and if he failed in
making me quite like him, it is perhaps more my
fault than his. I should think he was a man of
variable spirits, and rather peculiar temper. He
often began to talk to me cheerfully, when a
sudden cloud would seem to pass over him, and
all would be gloom and formality in an instant ;
but these fits were only momentary — he always
rallied again directly."

'^ He is a peculiar man," said the General,
after a short pause ; '' but he has good points
about him. He is rather reserved — it is a family
failing. His father, the first Lord, had a great
deal of reserve, and pride too."


*' If his was pride of family/' said the ne-
phew, " it must, I imagine, have cost him a
pang to change his name from Granby to

" I have no doubt it did; although your
great uncle would never have got his title, if it
had not been for the fortune which old Tyrrel left
him. But he plainly showed his love of his
old family name, by the way in which he con-
trived that the peerage should descend. He
certainly had an eye to the possibility of its
being held some time or other by a Granby.
There is a remainder, you know, as I have told
you before, to the male representative of the
younger branch, and that is yourself."

" It is never Kkely to do me any good. Sir,"
said the nephew ; "there is Mr. Tyrrel — I dare
say he will marry — I wonder he has not already.
Besides, I should not like to profit by the loss
of a relation.""

The General returned no answer and re-


mained for a few minutes lost in thought.
'^ How do like your cousin Tyrrel ?" said he
at length ; " you never saw him before, I

*' Never ; — and it was by accident that I
saw him then. He came home unexpectedly,
a few hours after I reached Tedworth, and as
it appears, did not know that I was to be
there. He seemed surprised, I thought, and
hardly pleased, when first I was introduced to
him. His manner struck me very much — it
was very odd — I can scarcely describe it. He
hardly spoke three words to me all the first
evening, and resisted every attempt on my part
to become acquainted with him. However, the
next day he was quite another person. Nothing
could be more kind, frank, and cordial. I like
him extremely. You cannot think. Sir, how
friendly he was."

'' It does him credit," said the General, in
a low serious tone. His nephew assented, but


with a look of slight surprise at this marked
commendation of conduct, which appeared to
him so natural and proper.

" He is no longer in the army, I believe,"
said the General, rousing himself from a short

" No, he has just quitted the Guards, and
does not, I believe, intend to enter any other
regiment."" Then, after a short pause, with some
hesitation and timidity of manner, he proceeded :
" Excuse what I am going to say, sir, for I am
sure you have always acted from the kindest
intentions in bringing me up without any pro-
fession; but considering the smallness of my
means, the desirableness of employment, and the
impossibility otherwise of getting on in the world,
if you do not dishke it, sir, I should wish to do
something for myself.''

The General stared at the request, looked
uneasy, and remained for some time silent.
" Ay, ay, Harry,'' said he, at length, with a
sigh, " I ought to be sensible that a poor old

14 eUAKBY.

broken-down fellow, like me, is but indifferent
company for a young one like yourself. You
lead a moping life here, I know; and though
you do go out among friends at a distance, you
are only more sensible, on your return, of the
duhiess of home. If an old uncle is too stupid
to live with, God forbid that I should, for my
own sake, try to detain you V

" My dear sir,'' said the nephew, with great
earnestness, ''you must not so misunderstand
me. It hurts me to be thought capable of such
a meaning. I cannot forget my great and deep
obligations to you, and your many kindnesses,
and constant indulgence. I must always re-
member that you have been a second father to
an orphan, and a protector to one who had none
else to look to. I should be acting most un-
worthily, if I had made this proposal under the
motives which you attribute to me. I hope you
cannot bear in mind your own great claims upon
me, and still think me capable of such ingrati-

granby. 15

« Well, well, Harry, I don't— I don't. I
spoke fc^lishly. You never failed in gratitude
an instant in your life^-excuse my hastiness, and
forget it."

" How can I do otherwise .?" said the nephew,
with emotion. " I will say no more about a pro-

" Nay, nay,'^ interposed the General, " don't
let me stop your mouth. What profession is it
you fancy ?""

" No one particulai'ly, sir ; I only wished not
to be quite idle."

" Oh ! then your plans are quite imformed.
So much the better. But let us see what there
is you can do. I do not like the army, though
it is my own profession : it is a riotous, squab-
bling, drinking life."

" Formerly, perhaps," said the nephew ;
*' but that description can hardly be applied to
it at the present day. The rare occurrence of
a duel proves that it is not a quarrelsome pro-
fession, and drinking is universally exploded.


I believe. Sir, you would find that a mess-table,
now, is quite as temperate as any other."

" So I have heard say ; but be that as it may,
we are at peace now, and likely to remain so —
therefore think no more of army or navy."

'^ Well, Sir ; then there is nothing left me
but church and law."

" No— and how are you to get on in either
of those ? You have no chance on earth of a
living ; and as for law — I don't mean to say that
you are not a sharp fellow, or that you cannot
stick to anything you have once taken in hand —
but it is idle talking about professions : let us
hear no more of them. You have done well
enough hitherto without a profession, and I
don't see why you should want one now. Be-
sides, I can't do without you, Harry — I can't,
indeed. You must not think of it. If I had
thought you would want a profession, I should
have brought you up to one ; but I never did,
and for good reasons best known to myself — so
there is an end of the matter."


Though Hem-y Granby internally smiled at
the weakness and vagueness of the arguments
(if we must so call them) which the worthy and
warm-hearted old man had brought forward in
support of his ^nshes, he felt too much respect
for those wishes, so strongly expressed, and there-
fore, evidently, so deeply felt, to offer any farther
remonstrance ; and magnanimously smothering
a sigh, he relinquished with quiet acquiescence
the project he had formed. After this, con-
versation was not resumed. The General, gra-
tified by his successful remonstrance, soon yielded
to the soothing influence of silence, an easy chair,
and the sober twilight of two unsnuffed candles,
and fell asleep ; while the nephew, after a long
but unsatisfactory reverie, endeavoured to con-
sole himself with the last number of the Quar-
terly Review.



C'est le sole d'un sot d'etre importun ; un habile Lomme sont s'i}
eonvient, ou s'il ennuie.

La Bruyere.

The grandfather of Henry Granby was the
younger brother of the first Lord Malton, who
obtained that title subsequent to his succession
to the property and name of Tyrrel. He pos-
sessed a fortune which, for a younger brother,
was considerable, and which he transmitted un-
diminished to his son, but unhappily without
communicating a sufficient portion of that pru-
dence by which he himself had preserved it.
Mr. Granby, the son, soon formed an alliance
which apparently did anything but discredit to


his taste and judgment, and on which his nearest
friends were loud in their congratulations, but
which was nevertheless the source of eventual
unhappiness. He married a woman of great
beauty, good temper, and considerable fortune,
but who combined with good temper a compliancy
amounting to weakness, and brought with her
fortune a disposition for expense, which the ex-
tent of that fortune could by no means gratify.
She died soon after giving birth to Henry ; but
not until she had greatly contributed to the de-
rangement of her husband's affairs.

Needy and dispirited, Mr. Granby lent too
willing an car to the suggestions of an insidious
speculator, and was induced by him to become
his partner, together with others, in a bank.
Always a man of pleasure, rather than of busi-
ness, he naturally became the dupe of his design-
ing associates. The bank failed, and he found
himself reduced to the verge of ruin. His health
and spirits sank under the blow, and he soon
afterwards died, leaving his son, with a very


small fortune, to the guardianship of his only
brother. General Granby.

This important trust was executed by that
worthy man, in a manner which did honour to
his heart. The profits of his profession, added
to a comfortable patrimony, had placed him in
easy circumstances ; and established in a small
and quiet country residence, near the village of
Ashton, he liberally shared with his nephew that
little fortune of which he destined him to be the
heir. He spared no expense in his education,
and imposed few restrictions upon his pleasures.
His liberality was even carried to an extent which
gave occasional surprise to his more prudent
neighbours ; and his resolute refusal to bring up
his nephew to any profession, was confidently
pronounced by more than one to be the best
and surest way to ruin him. Those who will
not go all lengths with these zealous prognosti-
cators of evil, will still be agreed upon the impo-
licy of his system. The General himself had
but a scanty store of cogent reasons; and the

expression of his sentiments might generally be
comprised in that royal sentence, " iel est noire
plamr ;"" the only argument which never fails
to silence a debate.

Still, strange as it may appear, in spite of the
ill-judged indulgence of the uncle, and the charms
of idleness, and in defiance of the presages of
croaking friends, the young man was so little
corrupted, even at the age of two and twenty,
as to offer a sincere, though feeble remonstrance,
to any further continuance in a life of inactivity.
The feebleness of that remonstrance arose in
some degeee from his scrupulous fear of avowing
the motives by which he was led to it ; and as
he was silent on that point, we must tell them
for him.

He had from early boyhood been accustomed
to spend a small portion of «^ry year in the
house of Sir Thomas Jermyi^nd had always
been the object of his pecuhar favour. There
were many reasons for this ; Sir Thomas's old
friendship with his father ; his having no son of


his own ; the lively spirits and engaging man-
ners of the boy ; and perhaps, (for he was of
a good family), his being in some degree, though
distantly, related. He was also his godson ; a
feeble tie, but an useful motive, which persons
sometimes like to assign, for a partiality for which
they cannot in any other way so briefly account.
Be this as it may, thus much is certain, — that he
was a great favourite, and a frequent visitor.

Sir Thomas and Lady Jermyn had an only
daughter, about four years Henry'*s junior, and
for whom he had always professed to feel a most
brotherly regard. But "brotherly regards" are
feelings which are rarely fated to maintain their
existence out of that narrow pale of close rela-
tionship to which they properly belong. Even
between first cousins they will sometimes melt
into a tenderer species of affection ; and as the
lelationship becomes more distant, nothing short
of mutual repulsiveness will preserve their re-
spective feelings in that sober state of chastened
communion. It was not, therefore, probable that


two young persons, amply endued with many
loveable qualities, should afford an exception to
the above-mentioned rule ; and accordingly,
they had by this time begun to entertain pre-
cisely those sentiments which were most natural
to their relative situations.

But whatever they thought on this point, they
kept very prudently to themselves. This was
most commendable in the gentleman ; for he was
far the more enL'ghtened of the two, as to the
real nature of his feelings. He could not, how-
ever, refrain from betraying them a little before
his last departure, by asking and obtaining a
lock of the lady's hair, which he volunteered
a promise never to shew to any human being ;
intimating also that he would write to inform
her of his safe arrival at home. He felt, how-
ever, and keenly felt, that the inequality of
their fortunes would render presumptuous his
addresses, and that the heiress of Brackingsley
might aspire to an alliance much higher than
he could offer. As he viewed the insignifi-


cance of his means, his mind also dwelt on
the apparent hopelessness of their improve-
ment, and he bitterly regretted the inglorious
inactivity to which he had been doomed. He
trusted, however, that this evil was not without
a remedy. Distinction was the sure reward of
merit and exertion, in any profession ; and they
were all open to his choice. He was young ;
quite young enough to succeed in any of them.
In short, he was determined somehow or other to
make a figure ; and visions of glory, and of Caro-
line Jermyn, were brightly pictured in his warm
imagination ; Caroline's form being clearly trace-
able — the rest being grand, but rather indistinct
AVith a mind full of these interesting topics,
he rode out in the morning, at the request of
the General, to call on a friend, and having suc-
ceeded much to his satisfaction in finding him
not at home, was agreeably resuming the thread
of his meditations, when he heard with horror,
at a short distance behind him, the loud greeting
of Mr. Edwards. This unwelcome companion

GllAXBY. 25

was a gentleman of moderate independent proper-
ty, who was called "the Squire,"' par excellence,
by his own parishioners, but who, had he lived
in Ireland, which is richer in distinctions,
might have come under the denomination of a
" squireen.'" He was a good humoured, trou-
blesome, neighbourly man ; a perfect burr to a
chance companion, and for loudness and length-
iness, the most powerful talker in his district.
He came trotting after Granby, gaining upon
him rapidly, and repeating in stout hearty tones
as he rose in his stirrups, "' Well met, Mr.
Granby — well met — vrell overtaken, I ought to
say. I am glad to see you once more. I did
not know you were come back. So when I saw
you just this minute, thinks I, that looks like —
no it can't be — yes, it is though — but I was not
sure till I came quite close ; so I hope you will
excuse my not having called, for I give vou my
honour I did not know you were in the country',
or I should have made a point of it."'

" Pray do not apologise," said Henry. *' I

VOL. I. c


returned only yesterday, and as I knew that
you were in the country, I suppose I ought
to have called first.*"

*' Oh, I beg you would not mention it.
Well, and how is the General ? Better, I
suppose — I am glad to hear it. Tell him
not to stir out. The wind is in the east,
and will be so until the moon changes. Mind
if it is not. Bitter cold, is not it ? Ah, you
are looking at me riding without a great coat.
It is not very prudent, to be sure, but I'll
just tell you how that happens. You. see, I
have two great coats at home, and neither of
them the right thing ; one is a thick box coat,
and the other a mere frock, thin and short ;
terribly short. Tom Davis is always at me
about that coat — but I tell him, that short as
it is, it will be long enough before I have
another. That is the way I answer him.""
(Granby good humouredly tried to laugh.)
" But, it is cold," said Mr. Edwards, button-
ing his coat still higher. " I might have put


it on to-day — but we should not complain, for
it is very seasonable ; and Christmas will be com-
ing soon ; and we are not far from the shortest
day, and it is excellent weather for farmers, as
I have just been telling a tenant of mine.
Things are looking up wonderfully, — turnips
especially ; and by the bye, talking of turnips,
how many birds do you think I killed the other
day in my Swedes ? Four brace and a half. No
bad sport so late in the season. I never knew
a better year for birds in my life— coveys
uncommonly large and strong; I saw two of
fourteen, and one of sixteen, or thereabouts,
as near as I can guess; but I wont pretend to
be exact to a pair or two, but I think the
largest had sixteen, for I said to Tom Da\as,
(he was with me), says I, ' Da\as, I'll lay
any money,' says I, ' there's sixteen birds in
that covey.' ' Why yes,' says he, ' I should
think there might, as near as I can guess,' he
said. But I have been out of luck of late,
for I have lost my best dog, a liver and white


one — you must know him — you have seen him
out with me — well, I ve lost him, and TU tell
you how it was." And he told it, and then
passed on to the state of the roads — new gra-
vel — parish rates — appointment of a sexton —
robbery of his poultry yard — commitment of a
vagrant — suspected poachers— loss of a shoe in
yesterday'*s ride — and the history of two blank
days with the fox hounds.''

Henry Granby had one property, which was
eminently serviceable at this crisis ; he was a
good listener ; and however unskilled in the
arts of " seeming wise" where he was not, at
least possessed the inferior faculty of seeming
attentive. The General's " prose," (for that
worthv man, like Moliere's " Bourgeois Gentil-
homme," uttered a good deal without knowing
it), had greatly contributed to what physiolo-
gists would call the " development of this
faculty ;"* and this was heightened by the occa-
sional aid of rencontres like the present.

Thus gifted, our hero, without quitting his own


bright day-dreams, or suffering them to clash
with the anti-romantic topics of his companion,
mechanically but dextrously threw in his " in-
deed ! — yes — ah ! — no doubt — you don't say so !
— really ! — certainly — of course,'^ — in a tone so
well suited to that of the narrator, that this
communicative person was perfectly satisfied,
and parted from our hero with the full convic-
tion that he was a very agreeable, well informed,
sensible young fellow.

On reaching home, Henry proceeded to em-
body the fruit of liis long, though broken
cogitations, in a letter to Caroline Jermyn.

He first opened a pocket-book, and took out
of it, carefully folded up in silver paper, a
small glossy lock of dark hair, upon which,
with his head resting upon his hand, he seemed
to ruminate as intensely, as if he were trying to
conjure up the actual presence of the donor.

After adjusting pen, ink, and paper; after
frequent startings up, and two or three turns
round the table; after splitting the pen he had


just mended, and attempting to re-mend it with
the back of his pen-knife ; after such, and
sundry other delays, he wrote, sealed, and
directed a tolerably long letter to Miss Jermyn.
We shall not abuse our privileges (which are
great) so far as to disclose verbatim the con-
tents of this epistle. We shall only premise
that it was not a proposal of marriage, or even
a declaration of love ; that it contained no ex-
pression warmer than " regard ;" that it began
with " Dear Cousin," (for they were cousins,
though distant ones) and ended with " Very
truly yours, H. Granby;*" that it was not
crossed, (lady correspondents will understand
this term), nor even closely filled three sides ;
that it had no postscript ; and that it described
common-place topics in a common-place manner.
It was, in short, (so at least the writer flattered
liimself,) as demure, cautious, and correct a
letter, as full of innocent nothings, and well
guarded dulness, as any foe to correspondents
ever dreaded to receive. It was, he thought.


admirably calculated for a safe introduction to
a long series of epistolary intercourse, for it
could give no offence to the lady, and excite no
alarm in the parents. Thus prudent was he
in the execution of a measure, of which impru-
dence was the primary feature.

The letter was sent, but by no secret messen-
ger, no hght-heeled, ready-witted page ; he had
}3ribed no Abigail, or trusty steward, to cram it
thi'ough a key-hole, or deliver it at mid-night.
He had read of such tilings in many romances ;
but he admired neither the principle nor the
practice. He therefore enclosed it to the Father,
put " Free, M. P." at the bottom of his direc-
tion, and dispatched it boldly by the post.



Such is'the weaknesse of all mortall hope :
So fickle is the state of earthly things.

That ere they come into their aimed seope
They fall so short of our frail reckonings.
And bring us bale and bitter sorrowings

Instead of comfort which we should embrace.
This is the state of Caesars and of kings.

Let none therefore that is in meaner place

Too greatly grieve at his unlucky case.


Henry had now nothing to do but dwell
on the past, and live in daily hopes of a reply.
He was accordingly visited every day with a
great accession of restless anxiety about the
arrival of the post, which was even perceptible
to the eyes of the General. At length his hap-
piness and anxiety were at their height, at the
sight of a letter to himself, franked by Sir. T.

" From Brackingsley, eh .^" said the General,
who saw it. " Come, don't march off with it—


open it here, can't you, and let us know how
they are, and all about them."

His nephew reluctantly obeyed.^ — " Well,
and which of them is it from ? And what does it

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