A Love Story, by a Bushman | Page 9

improvement; and to carefully observe the manners,
customs, and habits of the beings he was among. He enquired first as to
their habits, and was presented with scones, kippered salmon, and a
gallon of Glenlivet; as to their manners and ancient costume, and was
pointed out a short fat man, the head of his clan, who promenaded the
streets without trousers. Neither did he find the delineation of their
customs more satisfactory. He was made nearly tipsy at a funeral--was
shown how to carve haggis--and a fit of bile was the consequence, of
his too plentifully partaking of a superabundantly rich currant bun. He
mused over these defeats of his object, and, unwilling to relinquish his
hitherto fruitless search,--reluctant to despair,--he bent his steps to that
city, where utility preponderates over ornament; that city which so
early encouraged that most glorious of inventions, by the aid of which
he hoped, that the diminutive barks of his countrymen might yet be
propelled, thus superseding the ponderous paddle of teak, He here
expected to be involved in an intricate labyrinth of mechanical
inventions,--in a stormy discussion on the comparative merits of rival
machinery,--to be immersed in speculative but gigantic theories. He
was elected an honorary member of a news-room; had his coat
whitened with cotton; and was obliged to confess that he knew of no
beverage that could equal their superb cold punch. Our philosopher
now gave himself up to despair; but before returning to his own warm
clime, he sought to discover the reason of his finding the flesh creep,
where he had deemed the spirit would soar. He at length came to the
conclusion that we are all slaves to the world and to circumstances; and
as, with his peculiar belief, he could look on our sacred volume with
the eye of a philosopher, felt impressed with the conviction that the

history of Babel's tower is but an allegory, which says to the pride of
man,
"'Thus far shall ye go, and no farther.'"
The Brahmin's adventures elicited much amusement. In a short time,
Selby was in a hot argument with the French novelist. Every now and
then, as the Frenchman answered him, he stirred his negus, and
hummed a translation of
"I'd be a butterfly."
"Erim papilio, Natus in flosculo."

Chapter IV.
The Postman.

"Not in those visions, to the heart displaying Forms which it sighs but
to have only dream'd, Hath aught like thee in truth or fancy seem'd; Or,
having seen thee, shall I vainly seek To paint those charms which,
imaged as they beam'd, To such as see thee not, my words were weak;
To those who gaze on thee, what language could they speak?"
Delmé had long designed some internal improvements in the mansion;
and as workmen would necessarily be employed, had proposed that our
family party should pass a few weeks at a watering place, until these
were completed. They were not without hopes, that George might there
join them, as Emily had written to Malta, pressing him to be present at
her wedding.
We have elsewhere said, that Sir Henry had arrived at middle age,
before one feeling incompatible with his ambitious thoughts arose. It
was at Leamington this feeling had imperceptibly sprung up; and to
Leamington they were now going.
Is there an electric chain binding hearts predestined to love?
Hath Providence ordained, that on our first interview with that being,
framed to meet our wishes and our desires--the rainbow to our cloud,
and the sun to our noon-day--hath it ordained that there should also be
given us some undefinable token--some unconscious whispering from
the heart's inmost spirit?

Who may fathom these inscrutable mysteries?
Sir Henry had been visiting an old schoolfellow, who had a country
seat near Leamington. He was riding homewards, through a sequestered
and wooded part of the park, when he was aware of the presence of two
ladies, evidently a mother and daughter. They sate on one side of the
rude path, on an old prostrate beech tree. The daughter, who was very
beautiful, was sketching a piece of fern for a foreground: the mother
was looking over the drawing. Neither saw the equestrian.
It was a fair sight to regard the young artist, with her fine profile and
drooping eyelid, bending over the drawing, like a Grecian statue; then
to note the calm features upturn, and forget the statue in the breathing
woman. At intervals, her auburn tresses would fall on the paper, and
sweep the pencil's efforts. At such times, she would remove them with
her small hand, with such a soft smile, and gentle grace, that the very
action seemed to speak volumes for her feminine sympathies. Delmé
disturbed them not, but making a tour through the grove of beech trees,
reached Leamington in thoughtful