be the confusor of the family-in fact, the property did first unite in me; my father, to make matters more sure, having married my grandmother's uncle's son's daughter.

"I lost my father very young, who left me in possession of an ample fortune, which had accumulated considerably in his hands by judicious management, and careful habits. My mother, I regret to say, was of a different disposition, and rather addicted to frivolity and expense. As soon as I could understand any thing, I was diligently taught not the value of money, but of him who possessed it; and by the time I was seventeen, had perhaps a higher opinion of Solomon Upsyde, Esq., than any of his majesty's lieges. At that age I was sent to college, being only the third heir of the Upsydes, who, under the present contested exclusion of Jews, Turks, &c., could obtain admission into that celebrated place of learning. Well do I remember the glory of putting on a gentleman commoner's silk gown at Christ Church, and the pleasure I experienced in the idea of all the extravagance to which it gave license. I say the idea, because whenever it came to the point of spending money, I may as well here confess, that I always experienced a kind of counter-feeling-a struggle-a retention as if by instinct, for which I can only account, by supposing that I inherited the common mixture from the different characters of my two parents. Nay, the blood of the Solomons-the male side of my pedigree, used to actuate me, I thought, even in minor matters. Thus, although, like my dear mother, I was, when young, proportionately fond of dress, and had the vanity, I remember, to order at one time, five-and-twenty pair of white cord trousers, I wore two nearly threadbare, before I could find in my heart to touch the others; and always had a strong kind of liking for the old ones, even after they were only fit to hang upon a peg in my dressing-room. It was the same in every thing I did-there is no use in concealing it. I used to buy the most highly priced horses for the pleasure, I thought, of riding and exhibiting them; but no sooner was I on their back, than I felt myself tormented by involuntary guesses at what each passer by might be induced to come down with in cash or exchange. The first of my many unfortunate speculations, indeed, was in this line: a pair of piebalds, in Gray's Inn Lane."

"Say no more," cried I; "the name of the place is enough. I have had my experience there, as well as you."

"You know, then, all about the paint, and the trick about the match ?"

"Yes," replied I, rather sharply; "go on."

"On leaving college, I was thrown into all the dissipation of the great metropolis, without any one who had the least authority over me. I formed a liaison with a celebrated opera-dancer, then in great vogue. I was proud of the conquest-if I may so call it-though she tied me pretty well down, both as to the first pecuniary deposit, and subsequent annual stipend,-and, in case of a separation before a certain period, still further conditions were considered binding. However, she praised the colour of my hair and the shape of my nose, and I really loved the girl, or thought so at least, which is the same thing; yet though I liked the reputation of spending thousands upon her, I never could resist urging her to raise her demands upon the lessee of the theatre-which

disgusted her so much, that she took flight at the end of the season with Hyacinthe, jun., the Zephyr of the ballet. In such a mixture of feelings as these I ran on from one extravagance to another, vying with all the most thoughtless young men of my own age; although I myself generally went by the name of Old Sol' amongst them. Well would it have been if this had been all, and I had confined my emulation to the west-end of the town. In an unlucky moment a new ambition took hold of me that of showing my spirit, and of trying to swell my fortune by some lucky hit in the city. At first I confined myself to semi-secret speculations, sometimes by commission, at others, by confidential association with firms to whom I advanced large sums of money with my usual mistrust of ostentation and love of lucre. The civility with which I was universally received in the city gratified me much, but I lost large deposits, and this, frequently repeated, began to make considerable inroads upon my property. At last, irritated by my losses, I openly made a large speculation in the celebrated Hymlapotopouski mines, capital ten millions, shares by instalment,-committee, chairman, vice-chairman, treasurer, secretaries, sub-secretaries, &c. But, although all other mines appeared to be doing well, according to the accounts received from the other side of the Atlantic, the Hymlapotopouski entirely failed: two majors and a captain, who had sold their commissions, and gone out in official capacities returned, and I found myself reduced to an annual income of a few hundreds a year. I had luckily paid my mother's jointure, as well as the fortune of my only sister, Lady Gilbert, so had only to think of myself. I took lodgings in Greenstreet, and amused myself by attending all the sales in London from Christie's downwards, including that of my own house in Portlandplace, at which I could not resist taking a clandestine peep.

"The contrivances to which I was put to live and make any figure in society had for me a strange sort of pleasure in those days, which nearly counterbalanced the many bitter pangs my own reflections but too often cost me.

"At this critical period of my life, my uncle Down died, leaving me the whole of his property, which more than reinstated me in my former wealth. I was now restored to every thing I could desire in existence, yet, will you believe it—"

"I can believe any thing," said I, "at my time of life." "Will you believe it? The fascination of those confounded Companies and speculations again seized me. The project of The Grand Joint-Stock Anti-feather-bed-Thistledown Company-'

"The what?" said I.

"The Grand Joint-Stock Anti-feather-bed-Thistledown Company,' which was the conception of myself, and (as I thought) of a friend. The project was vast-no less than that of totally superseding feather-beds, and placing the whole British nation (to say the least) upon beds of down. The machinery and details of the enterprise were equally extensive; and in consideration of certain localities connected with the peculiar article of speculation, a second central committee, with all its adjuncts, was to be established in the Scottish, as well as the English. metropolis.

"As soon as it was known that some project of this sort was afloat,

nothing surprised me more than to find that I had so numerous an acquaintance in Scotland. I had already settled in my own mind to offer the place of chairman of the committee to my friend, Sir Archy Macgroats; but it seemed as if the whole genealogical tree of every family in Scotland was agitated to the very roots by the mere rumour of the new company (for my colleague never allowed the name to transpire for reasons of his own). There were applications for sons, sons-in-law, grandsons, nephews, brothers-in-law, first, second, third, fourth, and fifth cousins; there was Alec, whom any little appointment would save from going out to India-and Archy, who had no taste for the law-and Andrew, whose commission was not yet purchased, and might be saved by a secretaryship-emolument no great object at first-and Charlie, who was endued with every virtue under the sun-and Bob, if you would believe his father, a second admirable Crichton-all gasping for -ships and deputyships of every description.

"The affair, however, never got beyond a project-neither committee, chairman, secretary, treasurer, nor any office of the sort were appointed: for before my colleague would allow any communication of the scheme to be made in detail, he went off to America, carrying with him one-half of my entire property, over which I had given him control, and I have never heard of him since.

6

"This really did cure me for a time of speculation, and I lived many years a respectable and happy life amongst my relatives and friends on a reduced, though sufficient income. It was only a month ago that the old infirmity again came upon me, and I lost nearly-I may almost say the whole of my property in a rash dip into the funds. A dip I call it, because it was what I thought such a clever saying of the late Mr. Rothschild that tempted me on. 'The Bonds,' said he, are like a cold bath, you must in and out again directly.' This dictum of the great speculator flew from mouth to mouth, and I so far profited by it as to go in, but out I never came again in any way that deserves the name. "You now know the whole of my financial history, the mischances of which are, at this moment, pressing upon others as well as myself-and for that reason, I can sincerely say, more heavily on me. I had fully made up my mind to continue now a single life, and, in that intention, had given George Gilbert to understand that he should be my heir; but, in addition to this, had it been in my power, how readily would I have assisted him in those distressing emergencies, a hint of which brought me to Paris, and in which I so truly sympathize now that he has related to me all the particulars. If Erminie La Fleur-"

Down would here no doubt have proceeded to enlarge also upon the subject he had thus broached, had not the very young gentlemen in question at that moment made his appearance, and concluding that they might have matters of business to discuss, I shortly after left them to a tête-à-tête.

(To be continued.)

THE LESSON OF LIFE:*

A HOUSEHOLD ROMANCE.

BY DOUGLAS JERROLD.

CHAP. XI.

MARQUIS," said Belleville, as the two friends hurried from the prison," Paris is no longer a place of safety. We must hence." And whither?" asked the careless De la Jonquille. "Shall we to your estate in Westphalia? or, with no further word, shall we pack up for your Roman palazzo?"

"For Heaven's sake!" cried Belleville-and at the adjuration, his companion suddenly stopt, and cast at the Chevalier a look that seemed to wither him; then, with a bitter laugh, observed,

"My best friend, Belleville, I pray ye, conjure in some other name!" "Wilt never be grave?" asked Belleville, despondingly. "What's to be done?"

"What has been done?" answered the Marquis. the season, and we must wait the harvest."

"Fools grow with

"But not in Paris; not where blood still cries against us." "Us! My hands are white as Alpine snow. What should I fear? And for yourself, dear Belleville, you might as well hope to flee from your own shadow, as from the voice of blood that here in splendid, laughing Paris, still pursues you. Turn hermit-take lodging in a cave-drink from the brook, and eat from the herbs of the field, that voice will still be at your ear-the face of the Jew will still peep out from the trees-and the laugh of poor Narcisse-bis light and rapid step, will still come to you from every bush-will still follow you."

"Why do you tell me this?" exclaimed Belleville, in a voice of terror. "Because I'd do the office of a friend, and save ye travelling expenses. Can you not die here as well-”

"Die!" cried the Chevalier.

"Die," replied the stolid Marquis. "You must die somewhere, eh? Though I have marked that men of your persuasion-bloodshedders for gain-are apt to think themselves immortal by their crimes; they no sooner become unfit to live, than they give up all thoughts of death.” "In the name of the great fiend!" muttered Belleville.

At the same moment De la Jonquille slapt the speaker encouragingly on the shoulder, crying, " Now thou hast it! swear on."

"De la Jonquille! why do you thus torment me?" cried Belleville, imploringly.

"Well, well!" replied the Marquis, " for the sake of poor humanity, I will respect its qualms, and talk no more of death. Thou shalt live, Belleville, for ever, and that granted, where shall we sup?"

As the Marquis spoke, a low long groan, as from the earth, fixed Belleville to the spot: he griped the arm of his companion, and asked "Did you hear nothing?"

• Continued from No. ccxvi., p. 560.

:

Very like Narcisse," was the cool reply; and Belleville, for the moment, more appalled by the unconcern of his friend, who appeared on a sudden removed from the sphere of all human sympathies, than by that which tested it, was about to quit his arm and hurry from him as from a demon another moment, and he grasped him more firmly, as if to lose him was to lose his surest safeguard against every ill. Belleville feared and hated his comrade, whilst with a slavish superstition he could not but consider him the arbiter of his destiny. Again the groan was heard, and Belleville still clutched the arm of the Marquis, who repeated, "Very like Narcisse."

"Impossible!" exclaimed Belleville, "impossible! Said they not he was dead?"

"Hark! Eh-what have we here?" and De la Jonquille dragged his companion towards the gateway of a dull, massive building; and, at length, discovered through the darkness a man, apparently writhing in the agonies of death. Say, friend, who are ye-and what has brought ye to this plight?"

66

"If you have Christian hearts, a priest-a priest," answered the sufferer.

"Good Belleville," cried the Marquis, "I pray ye, run for some holy man. Hark! who comes?"

At this moment, several forms were seen to move slowly and cautiously towards the spot, and the Marquis and Belleville, standing far in the gateway, observed, unnoticed, the approach of the new-comers; four of whom bore apparently a heavy burden on their shoulders.

"Benedicite!" exclaimed De la Jonquille, as the men reached the gateway. They suddenly paused, and the voice of Father George responded, "Benedicite!" On this the Friar, motioning his followers, hastened his steps, when a louder " Benedicite!" from De la Jonquille made him stop.

"Who is there?" asked the Friar.

"A dying sinner, Father George," answered De la Jonquille.

"It is the Monk!" exclaimed Belleville. "I pray ye, let him

pass."

"And leave a dying man unshriven? Fie upon you, Belleville!" said the Marquis, who again addressed himself to the Monk. Father George, having whispered to his followers, they proceeded on with their load, leaving him to perform his ghostly office on the dying man.

"As I live," cried the Friar, "the gentlemen with whom I had such goodly talk in the prison!-and who is here? Nay, tarry a moment;" and the Monk, winged, with good intentions, flew towards his companions, already arrived at their destination, and in a few moments-they had deposited their load within-returned with them to the Marquis, who earnestly prayed the Friar to give his speedy consolation to an expiring sinner. By the orders of the Monk, the wounded man was borne onward in the arms of the men, when Father George entreated the Marquis and Belleville to give him their company beneath his humble roof.

"Thanks! many thanks, kind father!" answered Belleville," but we have business-urgent business."

"Trust me, no," interrupted De la Jonquille; "at least no affairs that should not give way to hospitality so holy-so we follow, excellent