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home, but belonged to the Ferdinand of Spain, the Tower and Sword of Portugal, St. George of Russia, Maria Theresa of Austria, Crescent of the Ottoman Empire, Elephant of Denmark, Black and Red Eagle, and the Lord knows how many heraldic birds and beasts beside.Impossible to see a more complete constellation of a man!

All this had been gorgeous when displayed upon the shrunken dignity of an obsolete Ambassador, the preceding spring but now that his chest was inflated by the prescience of ten thousand a year, and his nose beginning to be Bardolphic with renewed anticipations of good cheer, he impended over London as one of the most pompous of its pomposities.—

The happy pair were preparing to do it very grand indeed. The Crutchley diamonds and the aigrette of uncut sapphires were re-setting; and a glaring town chariot, with festooned window blinds, and a travelling carriage wrought about with divers colours, were on

view in the Acre; attracting crowds before the coachmaker's door, as when a royal equipage

is being sent out by government as a flummerification to the King of Ashantee, or Prince Royal of the Malaccas. A service of plate with the Harris coat of arms in all its dignities of coronet and supporters, emblazoned in frosted silver upon the sauce boats and salt-cellars, was in preparation at Storr and Mortimer'sa gift from Lady Crutchley, who seemed to fancy that her roast beef would be unpalatable, unless the dish from which it smoked, were dignified by the heraldic specifications of her

son-in-law.

Marcia was strangely mistaken, however, if she expected the Lady Grindleshams and Duchesses of Walmer to trouble their heads about a Lady Harris, as they had done about a Miss Crutchley. Ten thousand a year in the market, and ten thousand a year taking its modest place among the colossal fortunes of the aristocracy, are very different things. The

utmost Lord and Lady Harris could hope to achieve was to be accepted on sufferance in a few of the best houses, as new people who, by dint of pains-taking and beating out their gold into leaf for gilding, had attracted notice; and lionizing in a secondary set, where a Lord is always a Lord, even if the Lord knows whom.

I went back to Italy.-I wanted the solace of its climate. I wanted to escape from the coldness, moral and physical, of England.England is too prosperous, too busy, for those who are in trouble.-It kicks against the pricks, till one's soul grows bitter with the sense of what Meta Klopstock called the friendshiplessness of the land.

In Italy, the floods of noon-day light melting into a sort of living darkness, a spiritual clearobscure that keeps one company during the night season, the mournful sound of its

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monastic bells, the permanence of its per

petual verdure,-accord better with the loneliness of a sorrowing heart.

As the good Prince used often to say, "our very land is a monument,-the monument of a glorious past."

As I passed through Genoa and sojourned a day in the Palazzo D, in order to ruminate a few solitary hours on the terrace and see the sun go down from its marble height, suspended over the city as I trusted the spirit of him to whom it had been as the garden of Gethsemane now hovered over the spot, conjoined with the eternal harmony of Heaven.It was at once an elevating and depressing thought to consider how little that great mind had effected of the noble purposes of its youth: how human affections preponderating over its inspirations, had clung to the wings of Genius and impeded their flight. It is almost always thus!—But for such deteriorating influences, great men would become too great!-While

the mean and trivial fret themselves into notoriety, hundreds of mighty souls are hourly crushed by the contending afflictions and littlenesses of life,

And live and die unheard

With a most voiceless thought, sheathing it as a sword.

The name of Danby, which ought to be united with the brightest records of the land's language, will, in a few years, be forgotten; nay, is already forgotten:--that of Brummell, -nay, even that of CECIL,-is more widely known. What atoms are the best of us in the scale of creation!-Our only fault is to dream of being more than atoms!―That majestic mind is gone to rejoin the rampart of light whose brightness surrounds the Eternal Throne ;and when one reflects on that ultimate destination, how poor the award of a discoloured marble in Westminster Abbey,—of a likeness in the printseller's windows,-or a few dusty volumes on the shelves of the booksellers!

My readers will of course sagaciously con

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