What Will He Do With It, Book 1.

links the past to the

on of ant

ummer nights, under honeysuckle arbours, o

leaning his head on his hand and his elbow on the table,

ad I am a painter; and I hope

ith cordial sincerity. "And if I, who can only just paint well en

," quoth Vance

"must you feel who can fix a fading sunshine-a fleeting face-on a

poetic side of the profession; there is a prosaic one;-we'll blink it. Yes; I am glad to be a painter. But you must not c

of the castles I have built in the air? Fame looks so far,-Fortune so impossible. But one thing I am bent upo

r is supported: sh

(he added with a flushed cheek) "a f

de, all grating sackcloth on the side next to the skin. Even kings don't wear the dalmaticum except at a coronation. Independence you desire; good. But are you dependent now? Your mother has given you an excellent education, and you have already put it to profit. My dear boy," added Vance, with unusual warmth, "I honour you; at your age, on leaving school, to have shut yourself up, translated Greek

his voice faltered as he pressed the hand held out to him. He answered, "I don't deserve your praise, Vance, and I fear the pride you t

nd on a parent: who, a

cousin, at about as distant a remove, I fancy, as a cousin well can be. To this gentleman my mother wrote when my poor father died; and he was generous, for it is he who paid for m

-"Neve

me, told me the extent of my obligations to this benefactor, and informed me that he wished to know

in that? Help yourself to toddy, my bo

him. Oh, Vance, they were terrible, those letters! The first began by a dry acquiescence in the claims of kindred, a curt proposal to pay my schooling; but not one word of kindness, and a stern proviso that

ch man's eccentricity.

ys he has been marrie

"Any ch

living; but I know little o

g no children, suspect and dread the attention of an heir presumptive; and what has made this sting, as you call it, keener to you is-pardon me-is in some silly wor

his head, wi

great harm as yet. Enough of the

o herself, had slight interest to him,-him, the condescending benefactor! As to his opinion, what could I care for the opinion of one I had never seen? All that could

say your relative was rather a disagreeable person,-no

vise a popular translation of the classics. He recommended me, at my request, to the publisher engaged in the undertaking, as not incapable of translating some of the less difficult Latin authors,-subject to his corrections. When I had finished the first instalment o

ousin when your refusal to go

was more galling still, for in it he said that if, in spite of the ability and promise that had been so vaunted, the dulness of a college and the labour of learned professions were so distasteful

he sackcloth frets you-and g

mission in the army, or get

hich did

my mother,-did not tell her of it. I wrote shortly,-that if he would not accept my gratitude, I would not accept his benefits; that shoeblack I might be,-pickpocket, no! that he need not fear I should disgrace his blood or my

interrupts the tide, and how smilingly the stream flows on. See, just where we stand, how the slight pebbles are fretting the wave would the wave if not fretted make that pleasant music? A few miles farther on, and the river is spanned by a bridge, which busy feet now are crossing: by the side of that bridge now is rising a palace; all the men who rule England have room in that palace. At the

sed closer and closer to his friend's side; and the tears were alrea