FRANK FAIRLEGH;

OR, OLD COMPANIONS IN NEW SCENES.1

CHAP. IV.

CATCHING SIGHT OF AN OLD FLAME.

UTTERLY worn out, both in mind and body, by hard reading and confinement, I determined to return to Heathfield forthwith, with "all my blushing honours thick upon me," and enjoy a few weeks' idleness before again engaging in any active course of study which might be necessary to fit me for my future profession. When the post came in, however, I received a couple of letters which rather militated against my intention of an immediate return home. A note from Harry Oaklands informed me that having some weeks ago been ordered to a milder air, he and Sir John had chosen Clifton, their decision being influenced by the fact of an old and valued friend of Sir John's residing there. He begged me to let him hear all the Cambridge news, and hoped I should join him as soon as Mrs. Fairlegh and my sister would consent to part with me. For himself, he said, he felt somewhat stronger, but still suffered much from the wound in his side. The second letter was from my mother, saying she had received an invitation from an old lady, a cousin of my father's, who resided in London, and, as she thought change of scene would do Fanny good, she had accepted it. She had been there already one week, and proposed returning at the end of the next, which she hoped would be soon enough to welcome me after the conclusion of my labours at the University. Unable to make up my mind whether to remain where I was for a week longer, or to return and await my mother's arrival at the cottage, I threw on my gown and cap, and strolled out, the fresh air appearing quite a luxury to me after having been shut up so long. As I passed through the street where old Maurice the pastry-cook lived, I thought I would call and ask how Lizzie was going on, as I knew Harry would be anxious for information on this point. On entering the shop, I was most cordially received by the young lady herself, who had by this time quite recovered her good looks, and on the present occasion appeared unusually gay and animated, which was soon accounted for when her father, drawing me on one side, informed me that she was going to be married to a highly respectable young baker, who had long ago fallen a victim to her charms, and on whom she had of late deigned to take pity; the severe lesson she had been taught having induced her to overlook his intense respectability, high moral excellence, and round, good-natured face-three strong disqualifications, which had stood dreadfully in his way when striving to render himself agreeable to the romantic Fornarina. I was answering their inquiries after Oaklands, of whom they spoke in terms of the deepest gratitude, when a young man, wrapped up in a rough pea-jacket, bustled into the shop, and, with out perceiving me, accosted Lizzie as follows :—

"Pray, young lady, can you inform me-what glorious buns where Mr.--that is to say, which of these funny old edifices may happen to be Trinity College?"

On receiving the desired information, he continued, "Much obliged. I really must trouble you for another bun. Made by your own fair hands, I presume? You see, I'm quite a stranger to this quaint old town of yours, where half the houses look like churches, and all the men like the parsons and clerks belonging to them, taking a walk in their canonicals, with four-cornered hats on their heads,-abortive attempts to square the circle, I conclude wonderful things, very. But, when I get to Trinity, how am I to find the man I want, one Mr. Frank Fairlegh?"

(1) Continued from p. 136.

Here I took the liberty of interrupting the speaker, whom I had long since recognised as Coleman,-though what could have brought him to Cambridge I was at a loss to conceive-by coming behind him, and saying, in a gruff voice,

"I am sorry you keep such low company, young

man.

"And pray who may you be that are so ready with your 'young man,' I should like to know? I shall have to teach you something your tutors and dons seem to have forgotten, and that is, manners, fellow!" exclaimed and not recognising me at first in my cap and gown: then Freddy, turning round with a face as red as a turkey-cock, looking at me steadily for a moment he continued, The very man himself, by all that's comical! This is the way you read for your degree, is it?" Then with a glance towards Lizzie Maurice, he sang, My only books

Were woman's looks, And folly all they taught me.'

"It's a Master of He-arts you're striving to become, I suppose?"

"Nonsense," replied I quickly, for I saw poor Lizzie coloured and looked uncomfortable; we don't allow bad puns to be made at Cambridge." "Then, faith, unless the genius loci inspires me with good ones." returned Freddy, as we left the shop together," the sooner I'm out of it the better."

Ten minutes' conversation served to inform me that Freddy, having been down to Bury St. Edmunds on business, had stopped at Cambridge on his way back, in order to find me out, and, if possible, induce me to accompany him home to Hillingford, and spend a few days there. This arrangement suited my case exactly, as it nearly filled up the space of time which must elapse before my mother's return, and I gladly accepted his invitation. In turn, I pressed him to remain a day or two with me, and see the lions of Cambridge; but it appeared that the mission on which he had been despatched was an important one, and would not brook delay; he must therefore return at once to report progress. As he could not stay with me, the most advisable thing seemed to be that I should go back with him. Returning, therefore, to my rooms, I set Freddy to work on some bread and cheese and ale, whilst I hastened to cram a portmanteau and carpet-bag with various indispensables. I then ran to the Hoop, and took an affectionate farewell of Mr. Frampton, making him promise to pay me a visit at Heathfield Cottage; and, in less than two hours from the time Coleman had first made his appearance, we were seated together on the roof of a stage-coach, and bowling along merrily towards Hillingford.

During our drive, Coleman recounted to me his adventures in search of Cumberland, on the day preceding the duel, and gave me a more minute description than I had yet heard of the disreputable nature of his pursuits. From what Coleman could learn, Cumberland, after having lost at the gaming-table large sums of money, of which he had by some means contrived to gain possession, had become connected with a gambling-house not far from St. James's-street, and was supposed to be one of its proprietors. Just before Coleman left town, there had been an exposé of some shameful proceedings which had taken place at this house,-windows had been broken, and the police obliged to make a forcible entrance; but Cumberland had as yet contrived to keep his name from appearing, although it was known that he was concerned in the affair, and would be obliged to keep out of the way at present.

"We shall take the old lady by surprise, I've a notion," said Freddy, as the coach set us down within ten minutes' walk of Elm Lodge. "I did not think I should have got the Bury St. Edmund's job over till to-morrow, and wrote her word not to expect me till

By Jove, no!" was the reply; "a mysterious young lady! I say, Frank, this is interesting."

As he spoke, the door flew open, and Mrs. Coleman bustled in, in a great state of maternal affection, and fuss, and confusion, and agitation.

Why, Freddy, my dear boy, I'm delighted to see you, only I wish you hadn't come just now;-and you, too, Mr. Fairlegh,-and such a small loin of mutton for dinner; but I'm so glad to see you looking like a ghost, so pale and thin," she added, shaking me warmly by the hand; "but what I am to do about it, or to say to him when he comes back-only I'm not a prophet to guess things before they happen-and if I did, I should always be wrong, so what use would that be, I should like to know?"

"Why, what's the row, eh, mother? the cat hasn't kittened, has she?" asked Freddy.

"No, my dear, no, it's not that; but, your father being in town, it has all come upon me so unexpectedly; poor thing! and she looking so pretty, too; oh, dear! when I said I was all alone, I never thought of it; and so he left her here."

"Well, if it isn't the cat, what is it?" persisted Freddy.

"Why, my love, it's very unlucky-very awkward, indeed; but one comfort is, we're told, it's all for the best when every thing goes wrong-a very great comfort that, if one could but believe it; but poor Mr. Vernon, you see, he was quite unhappy, I'm sure, he looked so cross, and no wonder, having to go up to London all in a hurry, and such a cold day too."

At the mention of this name, my attention, which had been gradually dying a natural death, suddenly revived, and it was with a degree of impatience, which I could scarcely restrain, that I awaited the conclusion of Mrs. Coleman's rambling account. After a great deal of circumlocution, of which I will mercifully spare the reader the infliction, the following facts were elicited-About an hour before our arrival, Mr. Vernon, accompanied by his ward, had called to see Mr. Coleman, and, finding he was from home, had asked for a few minutes' conversation with the lady of the house-his reason for so doing soon appeared, he had received letters requiring his immediate presence in London on business, which might probably detain him for a day or two, and, not liking to leave Miss Saville quite alone, he had called with the intention of begging

Mrs. Coleman to allow her niece, Lucy Markham, to stay with her friend at Barstone Priory till his return, and so save her from the horrors of solitude. This plan being rendered impracticable by reason of Lucy's absence, Mrs. Coleman proposed that Miss Saville should remain with her till Mr. Vernon's return, which, she added, would be conferring a benefit on her; as her husband and son being both from home, she was sadly dull without a companion. This plan having removed all difficulties, Mr. Vernon proceeded on his journey without further delay. Good Mrs. Coleman's agitation on our arrival had been produced by the consciousness that Mr. Vernon would by no means approve of the addition of two dangerous young men to the party; however Freddy consoled her by the ingenious sophism, that it was much better for us to have arrived together, than for him to have returned alone, as we should now neutralize each other's attractions; and, while the young lady's pleasure in our society would be doubled, she would be effectually guarded against falling in love with either of us, by reason of the impossibility of her overlooking the equal merits of what Mrs. Coleman would probably have termed "the survivor."

Having settled this knotty point to his own satisfaction, and perplexed his mother into the belief that our arrival was rather a fortunate circumstance than otherwise, Freddy despatched her to break the glorious tidings, as he called it, to the young lady, cautioning her to do so carefully, and by degrees, for that joy was very often quite as dangerous in its effects as sorrow.

Having closed the door after her, he relieved his feelings by a slight extempore hornpipe, and then slapping me on the back, exclaimed, "Here's a transcendent go! if this ain't taking the change out of old Vernon, I'm a Dutchman. Frank, you villain, you lucky dog, you've got it all your own way this time; not a chance for me; I may as well shut up shop at once, and buy myself a pair of pumps to dance in at your wedding."

My dear fellow, how can you talk such utter nonsense?" returned I, trying to persuade myself that I was not pleased, but annoyed, at his insinuations.

"It's no nonsense, Master Frank, but, as I consider it, a very melancholy statement of facts. Why, even putting aside your antecedents, as the French have it, the roasted wrist, the burnt ball-dress, and all the rest of it, look at your present advantages; here you are, just returned from the University, covered with academical honours, your cheeks paled by deep and abstruse study over the midnight lamp; your eyes flashing with an unnatural lustre, indicative of an overwrought mind; a graceful languor softening the nervous energy of your manner, and imparting additional tenderness to the fascination of your address; in fact, till you begin to get into condition again, you are the very beau ideal of what the women consider interesting and romantic."

"Well done, Freddy," replied I, "we shall discover a hidden vein of poetry in you some of these fine days; but, talking of condition, leads me to ask what time your good mother intends us to dine?"

"There, now you have spoilt it all," was the rejoinder; "however, viewed abstractedly, and without reference to the romantic, its not such a bad notion either. I'll ring and inquire."

He accordingly did so, and, finding we had not above half an hour to wait, he proposed that we should go to our dressing-rooms and adorn, before we attempted to face "the enemy," as he rudely designated Miss Saville. It was not without a feeling of trepidation for which I should have been at a loss to account, that I ventured to turn the handle of the drawing room door, where I expected to find the party assembled before dinner.

Miss Saville, who was seated on a low chair by Mrs. Coleman's side, rose quietly on my entrance, and advanced a step or two to meet me, holding out her hand with the unembarrassed familiarity of an old acquaintance. The graceful ease of her manner at once restored my self-possession, and, taking her proffered

hand, I expressed my pleasure at thus unexpectedly meeting her again.

"You might have come a hundred times without finding me, although Mrs. Coleman is kind enough to invite me very often. But I seldom leave home; Mr. Vernon always appears to dislike parting with me." "I can easily conceive that," replied I; "nay, although in common with your other friends, I am a sufferer by his monopoly, I can almost pardon him for yielding to so strong a temptation."

"I wish I could flatter myself that the very complimentary construction you put upon it were the true one," replied Miss Saville, blushing slightly; "but I am afraid I should be deceiving myself if I were to imagine my society were at all indispensable to him. I believe if you were to question him on the subject, you would learn that his system is based rather on the Turkish notion, that, in order to keep a woman out of mischief, you must shut her up."

Really, Miss Saville," exclaimed Coleman, who had entered the room in time to overhear her speech, "I am shocked to find you comparing your respectable and revered guardian to a heathen Turk, and Frank Fairlegh, instead of reproving you for it, aiding, abetting, encouraging, and, to speak figuratively, patting you on the back.'

"I'm sure, Freddy," interrupted Mrs. Coleman, who had been aroused from one of her customary fits of absence by the last few words, "Mr. Fairlegh was doing nothing of the sort; he knows better than to think of such a thing. And if he didn't, do you suppose I should sit here, and allow him to take such 'liberties?' But I believe it's all your nonsense, and where you got such strange ideas, I'm sure I can't tell; not out of Mrs. Trimmer's Sacred History, I'm certain, though you used to read it with me every Sunday when you were a good little boy, trying to look out of the window all the time, instead of paying proper attention to your books."

During the burst of laughter which followed this speech, and in which Miss Saville, after an ineffectual struggle to repress the inclination out of respect to Mrs. Coleman, was fain to join, dinner was announced, and Coleman pairing off with the young lady, whilst I gave my arm to the old one, we proceeded to the dining

room.

THE GLASS MANUFACTURE.

the latter is, however, more likely, for there seems little probability that any man should have deliberately commenced a search for the discovery of glass. No natural phenomenon gives a hint that so beautiful a substance was producible from the sands on the sea-shore. Long might an inquisitive ancient philosopher have paced the smooth beach, and examined the forms and multitudes of its sandy elements, without suspecting the possibility of transforming such bodies into a material bright as the dew-drops when glittering on the soft grass in a summer's morning.

Accident, the mother of so many arts, was, therefore, most likely the first teacher of the glass manufacture: and to such a source do the traditions of antiquity point. Most readers have probably heard the story, as given by Pliny, the Roman naturalist, eighteen hundred years ago, and which, if we could take the writer for an authority, would show the exact beginning of this branch of human art. Pliny makes accident the source, the Holy Land the region, and merchants the agents of the discovery. Some navigators steered their ship, laden with nitre, into the Bay of Acre, and up a small river named the Belus, on the banks of which they rested, and lighted a fire to dress their food. The cooking vessels were placed upon some blocks of the nitre, between which the fuel was laid. The heat melted the nitre, and fused it with the sands of the beach, upon which a stream of transparent matter was observed to flow: to this simple occurrence the discovery of glass is ascribed.

Now it must be confessed there is no high degree of improbability in the account; all seems natural enough; and this has, no doubt, induced many to acquiesce in the story, as giving a satisfactory account of the first production of glass. We are naturally disposed to receive those traditions for truths which supply us with a plausible explanation of some obscure fact. It is not here intended to impugn the story of Pliny, for that would require more knowledge than that naturalist himself possessed; but, on the other hand, we must not rest on the above statement as presenting the actual facts of the case. Pliny does but say what others had told him; and such reports may have been received without any sufficient authority; for be it remembered, that Pliny, with all his various knowledge, was a credulous man, ever on the look-out for marvellous reports, and not overburdened with the critical faculty. After this statement each reader must be left to admit or reject the account given by the old Italian naturalist.

tinct processes.

Amongst such instances glass must be classed, for in no substance is the change from the rude element to the transparent and refined material so remarkable. A heap of sand and ashes may to-day lie unnoticed in the stores of a glass-house, and to-morrow the same mass may have assumed the transparent and crystallike forms, from which the resplendent mirror, or the star inquiring telescope, are produced.

When the mode of extracting glass from the earth was discovered, is amongst the doubtful events in human history, for neither the region in which it happened, nor the name of the discoverer, is clearly known. Thus, whether the result was the reward of long studies, pursued by some ancient experimenter in the ante-historical period, or the happy fruit of some accident, is unknown:

extended commerce. Even amongst the ancient Chinese we find traces of this art, and a diminutive vase, of a bluish-white colour, made from this ancient Chinese glass, may be seen in the British Museum. It is well known that the Romans possessed glass vessels, as urns of this substance have been found in Herculaneum, and some of these are deposited amongst the antiquities of the Museum. The beautiful Portland Vase is formed of dark blue glass, and is supposed to have been the work of an ancient Greek artist, who must have been

versed in the manufacture of the substance from which the vase is formed. Thus, in all the more important and civilized countries of the ancient world, we find a knowledge of the art, so adapted to delight the elegant, and interest the philosophical.

The production of such a substance is less important, doubtless, than the discovery of some of the more useful metals, such as iron and copper; but its uses were,